At Least I Got a Goodbye
by J.D. Cunegan
Summary: AU: Three years after Richard Castle's fiery car crash, he hasn't been found. He is presumed dead, leaving Kate Beckett at a personal cross roads.
1. Chapter 1

**At Least I Got a Goodbye**

_**Note:** AU set after the season 6 finale._

* * *

><p>Three years had passed since Richard Castle's accident.<p>

Three years with no body, no answers. Kate Beckett held out as long as she could, as long as she had the strength for, but after a year of searching, she finally had to admit – to herself, as much as anyone else – that her beloved wasn't coming back.

Every lead became a dead end. Every time Kate thought she was on the verge of a discovery, she came up empty. As painful as going to bed without Rick was, that pain paled in comparison to what she felt knowing she'd probably never find out the truth.

The only thing that kept Kate going was her job, her solemn duty to walk into the 12th every day and solve murders. If she couldn't have the comfort and closure that came with answers about Rick's death, then she would do everything she could to make sure other grieving families and lovers never had to go without.

She buried herself in her work. She stopped socializing with the others. She shut herself off from Esposito and Ryan. She barely said a word to Gates, unless it pertained to a case. She barely even talked to Lanie anymore.

Kate just went to work, solved her cases, and returned to her apartment. Occasionally, she would swing by the cemetery, visit her mother's grave – or maybe even the memorial she helped erect for Castle, even though there was no body. She wanted there to be _something_ for his loved ones to remember him.

Kate led a quiet, spartan life. She tried being there for Alexis and Martha at first, but about a year ago, Martha's health took a turn for the worse. Six months ago, they buried Martha, and if Kate was being perfectly honest, she hadn't seen Alexis since.

One by one, her family was being taken from her.

Most nights unfolded like this: drink in hand, ball game muted on the TV. Her personal murder board open, Richard Castle's promotional photo front and center. Even with the investigation going nowhere, with no new information over the past 18 months, Kate couldn't bring herself to take it all down. Every time she tried, this weight on her chest would overwhelm her.

Every once in a while, she thought about calling Dr. Burke. Would he still help? _Could_ he?

The buzz of her phone broke the silence and startled Kate out of her trance. She stared at the table, the viewscreen of her phone just out of eyesight. The phone buzzed and buzzed, moving slightly along the table before abruptly going silent.

A pang of guilt hit Kate; what if that was a case? She couldn't ignore her duty; no matter how bad she hurt, no matter how much life she'd lost in the past three years, she would never turn her back on her badge or those in need of answers. She grabbed the phone, her thumb hovering over the screen when she heard a knock on her door.

Kate frowned. She never had visitors. Hell, hardly anyone knew she was living in this apartment again. She finished off her glass, heaving a weary sigh as she set the glass on the table. Reluctantly, she rose to her feet and shuffled her way toward the door.

Her heart skipped a beat when she swung open the door and saw the young redhead standing before her. Alexis was almost as tall as Kate, but she seemed so much smaller right now, her eyes red and puffy. Her fingers were shaking.

Kate blinked. The heaviness in her chest returned. "Alexis," she whispered. "H-hi…"

Alexis sniffled, hoisting a black bag over her shoulder. "Hey," she glanced at the floor. "I, uh, I don't mean to bother you, it's just—"

"No, it's okay," Kate forced a smile that didn't meet her dark, heavy eyes. "Come in."

Alexis hesitated, then crossed the threshold into Kate's apartment. She gave a sheepish smile as the door shut and Kate returned to the couch, her legs curling under her as she sat. She smiled again, a little warmer this time.

"How's grad school?"

Alexis joined Kate on the couch with a sigh. "I think I liked Columbia better."

Kate nodded, her eyes fixated on the empty bottle at the edge of the table. "I'd offer you a drink, but…" her voice trailed off, her eyes darting about. She suddenly felt wracked with guilt; part of her felt she should've taken better care of Alexis in Rick's absence, but she was so wrapped up in her own pain that she sometimes forgot about his daughter and mother.

She almost yelped when she felt Alexis wrap her arms around her shoulders, pulling her in for a tight hug. The redhead sniffled and squeezed Kate, who eventually returned the embrace once the shock wore off.

"I missed you," Alexis whispered.

"I—" Kate swallowed. "I missed you too. I'm sorry, I…"

"No, I get it," Alexis released her grip, giving Kate a sad smile. "It's not like I've been little miss social butterfly since Gram died." She cast a sideways glance at her bag, biting her lower lip. "I've…I've been busy too."

Kate watched with a furrowed brow as Alexis dug into her bag. The redhead produced a laptop with a device for digital memory cards, flipping the computer open and connecting the USB cord. "You remember the key?"

Kate nodded, unable to find words.

"I did some digging over the summer, and it led me to a bank in Montreal," Alexis explained, wiping away a couple tears. Her voice shook. "The key was for a safety deposit box. In the box, there were three envelopes…one for me, one for Gram, and one for you."

Alexis produced a memory card from the bag. "Each envelope had one of these in it."

Kate sat, mouth agape. At first, she was speechless. How did no one else notice this? How was it Alexis made this breakthrough three years after the fact, by herself, when professionally-trained investigators at both the NYPD and the FBI came up empty? Alexis was smart and resourceful – apparently, much more resourceful than Kate knew.

"What's on it?"

Alexis sighed, her eyes averting Kate. Tears welled up in her eyes anew, the fingers holding the memory card trembling. As if by some maternal instinct, Kate grabbed Alexis' wrist and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Alexis," her tone was still soft, but with a touch of urgency. "What's on it?"

Alexis took a deep breath, forcing herself to look Kate in the eyes as a tear rolled down her cheek. "Watch." She slid the memory card into the appropriate slot, and the screen illuminated. Kate almost recoiled at the sight of her lover, worn and weary, sitting in front of the camera. His eyes were dark, borderline hollow, as if whatever he'd endured was threatening to suck the life out of him.

"Kate, if you are seeing this," he sighed, "well, if you are seeing this, I'm probably dead. I want you to know I never intended to leave you, not like this, not on our wedding day…but I…I…it wasn't my choice. I wish I could tell you what's going on, I…wish I could explain. But just know that I love you. I've always loved you. Always."

Alexis paused the video and Kate immediately burst into tears. She'd cried over the years since Rick's disappearance, but nothing like the emotional demons she was exorcising right now. Her violent, body-wracking sobs came out in silence; it wasn't until Alexis wrapped her into another embrace that Kate let out a wail of pain.

The detective clutched at Alexis' shoulders, the tears streaming down her face. Through the haze of her tears, Kate could still see Rick's face on the monitor. She could see the love in his eyes even though the screen, and she buried her face into the nape of Alexis' neck again. Alexis began crying as well, giving Kate a hard squeeze.

Slowly, Alexis ended the embrace, keeping her hands on Kate's shoulders. Kate brushed hair out of her face, sniffling once the sobs subsided into a series of smaller, but equally painful, cries. She couldn't tear her eyes off the screen.

There he was. Her lover. Her partner. Her friend. Assuaging all over her doubts that had built up over the years. The evidence in the immediate aftermath of his disappearance had been pretty damning – so much, in fact, that some at the 12th never forgave him – but now, for the first time since the crash, Kate had no doubts.

Rick had loved her all along. Always.

"I'm sorry," Kate sniffled, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry…"

"What? No…" Alexis whispered.

"I doubted him," Kate admitted, tears dripping down her cheeks anew. "I knew in my heart what was true and right and yet…I still doubted him."

"You were supposed to," Alexis brushed off a tear of her own. "It was your job."

Kate forced herself to sit upright, tucking strands of hair behind her ears. She wiped at her eyes again before pointing at the laptop. "Is there anything else on here?"

"No," Alexis sighed. "The ones he left for me and Gram were pretty much the same."

Kate nodded, staring at the image of Richard Castle on the monitor again. She couldn't tear her eyes away from it, no matter how hard she tried. It was the first tangible evidence of his existence since the crash, and she didn't want to let it go – even if it led nowhere.

"Well," she whispered, giving Alexis a sad smile, "at least I got a goodbye…"

Not sure of what to say, Alexis took Kate's hand into her own and gave it a squeeze. Awkward as things might've been between them from time to time, Alexis was always fond of Kate, and vice versa. Kate leaned back into the couch as Alexis rested her head on the detective's shoulder, their fingers still interlocked. The room fell silent, save for the rain smacking against the windows.

Kate was still crying, silently, biting her lower lip. She gave Alexis a sideways glance and squeezes her hand. Her voice cracked when she went to speak, and she cleared her throat. "I, uh," she sighed, "I'm thinking of leaving."

Alexis sat up with a frown, but didn't say anything.

"I'm gonna request a transfer," she admitted. "There's nothing for me at the 12th anymore. I can still solve murders somewhere else in New York, just…not there."

"Too much baggage," Alexis nodded in understanding, "Fresh start. I get it."

"I mean," Kate sat up, "I'll still be around. I mean, if you ever wanted to come by or meet up or anything, I'd still be here. I wouldn't _really_ be going anywhere…"

"Kate," Alexis smiled. "It's totally okay. Really. I've still got another year on my Master's work. And it's not like Harvard's that far. That's the great thing about New England…you drive for, like, an hour and you can wind up just about anywhere."

Kate cringed. "You sure?"

"You do whatever you need to do," Alexis pulled Kate in for another hug.

Kate closed her eyes, still amazed after all these years how mature and wise Alexis was. It was hard to believe she was related to the man she fell in love with, considering they were such opposites in so many ways. Kate never saw herself as Alexis' mother figure, per se, but more as a big sister.

She hoped, if nothing else, that would continue.

"You know you can come to me any time you need anything," Kate said as the hug ended. "Anything at all."

"Of course," Alexis smiled again. "And you always know where to find me.

"Always."


	2. Chapter 2

Kate Beckett took a little longer in the break room than most.

She took her time making her daily coffee, methodically going through the motions with the coffee maker. _His_ coffee maker. The one he bought for the precinct not too long after he started following her around. She'd been annoyed at the time with his obvious attempt at pandering, but as the years wore on, she grew as fond of it as she had of him.

Still, every time steam bellowed from the espresso machine, she felt a tug at her chest. She glanced down at the mug in her hand, eyes instantly focused on the ring still wrapped around her finger. Three years, and she still wore it.

This was her third cup of the day. She hadn't slept the night before. The bags under her eyes were darker than usual. Alexis was still curled up on her couch when she left for work, the image of Richard Castle still burned into the laptop on the coffee table.

Kate closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath to steady herself as she stirred the sugar into her coffee. She had an answer. It wasn't the answer she wanted, but it was something. It was better than the uncertainty, the doubt. The gnawing at her gut, making her question every single thing that had happened in the six years prior to the accident. She knew questioning everything was dumb, but it was her nature – both as a cop and as a person.

Her coffee ready, Kate sat at one of the tables, taking a slow first sip. She let the warmth wash over her, grateful to feel something other than emptiness and bitterness. Even if it was only for a few seconds, she relished the feeling.

She took another sip as Detective Ryan came into the room, grabbed a mug, and started working over the espresso machine. He didn't regard her at first, for which she was silently grateful, but after a few seconds he turned her way.

"Hey," he furrowed his brow, the knot on his red tie larger than usual. "Anything on the Kopowski case?"

She shrugged her shoulders, her eyes focused on the mug in front of her. "Wife's alibi checks out," she appeared to be on auto-pilot. "She was having dinner with her sister, and then they hit the road for Atlantic City. She's not our killer."

Ryan frowned, twisting the spoon in his coffee. "That leaves…" He sighed. "No one."

"We'll get there," Kate whispered, never tearing her eyes away from her mug.

Ryan stared at Beckett, concern etched into his face. He tentatively joined Kate at the table, taking a sip of his own coffee, cringing when he nearly burned the roof of his mouth. He pushed the mug aside, content to let it sit for a little while longer.

Everyone had been walking on proverbial egg shells over the past couple years. Tensions were bubbling, even after all this time, and Ryan was reluctant to say anything that might add gasoline to it. But he knew things weren't right, and he was afraid the 12th would get to a point where all of the tensions would start affecting case work.

"Hey, Beckett." Her eyes never wavered. "_Kate._"

Finally, she looked up at the other detective. She tried to look annoyed, but the hurt in her eyes betrayed her. Her lower lip began to quiver and she tore her gaze away, looking out at the rest of the precinct through the blinds. Esposito was at his desk, talking on the phone, anger written all over his face.

"Kate, what happened?"

She drew a long, deep breath, trying to calm her nerves and get her fingers to stop shaking. She occupied them by twirling the sparkling band still attached to her left ring finger. She opened her mouth, but the words got stuck in her throat. She looked at Ryan, panic now etched into her face. She kept her hair in a ponytail in an effort to hide the haircut she gave herself two weeks ago in a heartbroken haze.

"Alexis came to see me last night," she admitted, sinking into her chair. "Turns out that key the FBI found in Maine led to a bank in Montreal. Castle had a safety deposit box, and he put envelopes in it containing messages for me, Alexis, and Martha."

Ryan's frown deepened. "What did they say?"

Kate tried to smile, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She clutched the coffee mug with both hands. "Nothing, really," she sighed. "Just your typical 'If you're seeing this, it means I'm dead' sort of thing."

Ryan shook his head. "That's it?"

"He said it wasn't his choice to leave," she said, her voice on the brink of cracking. "And that he loved me…"

Ryan took a sip, mostly to buy himself some time. He didn't know what to say. Castle's absence had cast a pall over the entire precinct, even with Gates. He and Castle had always been friendly, bantering back and forth, ribbing each other. He appreciated Castle's wit and insight, but more than anything, he appreciated those Knicks and Jets tickets. Sure, it was a little selfish, but fact was, Ryan would never be able to afford seats at the 50 on his salary.

Kate piped up again before Ryan had a chance to speak. "I'm gonna request a transfer."

Ryan nearly did a spit-take. He gave Kate an incredulous look, hunched over his mug. "_What?!_"

"There's nothing here for me at the 12th anymore," she explained with a shrug, purposefully avoiding eye contact. "I can go to another precinct, solve murders there, get a fresh…" She paused, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "I can get a fresh start."

Ryan pushed his mug to the side. "How long have you been at the 12th?"

Kate thought for a moment. She couldn't remember. It'd been a long time; she'd been at the 12th for a long while before Castle even showed up. Ryan and Esposito were like family, which made the strain of the past few years even harder. Kate never quite forgave Esposito for his insistence that Castle was complicit in his own kidnapping – even after their investigation showed he had been forced to drop off that money at gunpoint.

If Kate was being honest with herself, it started with Montgomery's death. He was the one who'd brought her over to the 12th and looked after her. He was the one who insisted Castle stay on-board, even when Kate wanted him gone. Montgomery knew Castle was good for her, and despite everything he'd been messed up in, she considered him almost as much of a father as her own dad.

But now, both Montgomery and Castle were gone. Who was gonna be next?

She really didn't want to find out.

"Get it together, Kate," Ryan's surprisingly stern tone snapped Kate out of her trance. She was shocked; he never spoke to her like that. She flinched and anger flashed in her eyes; for a split second, she considered flinging her mug at him.

"You're a damn good cop," he said. "You have been since I've met you. You were good before he showed up, you were good while he was here, and you're good now."

Kate shook her head and rolled her eyes. "It's not about that…"

"Then what _is_ it?"

Part of Ryan wasn't sure he should believe this; after all, this wasn't the first time she left the 12th. There was her resignation after Gates suspended her and Esposito for withholding evidence. Then there was the time she left to take a job with the Attorney General in Washington. Both times, she eventually found her way back.

But this…this felt different. Maybe Ryan couldn't understand because his life was on a completely different path. He had a wife at home and a wonderful little girl named Abigail. Kate had neither of those things. Why would he consider bailing on those he considered his extended family?

"Is it sad?" He almost didn't hear her at first. She lifted her gaze, finally meeting his eyes. "Ryan, is it sad that I still have hope?"

He didn't have the heart to tell her it was. Instead, Ryan finished the rest of his mug before standing, straightening the jacket of his suit. He always was one of the best-dressed cops in the precinct. He placed a hand on her shoulder, tentative at first, then giving it a squeeze.

"Do whatever you think you need to do, Beckett…some of us haven't given up on you, either."


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a month since Alexis Castle had been in the loft. She liked to think it was because of how busy she was pursuing her Master's degree at Harvard, but truth was, she could barely stand to be in this place. It felt so empty now without her father and grandmother.

She felt far more comfort in Detective Beckett's apartment. Sure, it wasn't nearly as luxurious and roomy as the loft, but at least there she had the comfort of knowing she had a shoulder and an ear if she needed there. All she had here were memories.

Technically, the loft still belonged to the family, but her father's lawyer was still in the process of sorting through the details. Executing a last will and trust was complicated when someone was presumed dead, but there was no physical evidence of said demise. Three years of nothing, though – no word, no signal, no evidence – he had to be dead, right?

Why would he not reach out to someone if he were still alive?

Alexis shook her head; she really shouldn't be asking those questions, not after all the years that had passed. There was no point to it. The redhead wandered through what used to be Richard Castle's office, her eyes scanning the surface of his desk. She had to at least go through all of their things, either in case someone else wound up renting the loft or just for the sake of cleaning the place a bit.

The will had the loft going to Alexis, and if that happened, she wasn't sure if she would sell the place, keep it and rent it out to others, or just…live in it. She hated that choice; it felt like a choice someone her age shouldn't have to make.

Castle's framed rejection letter still hung on the wall behind his desk, his shelves showcasing a smattering of books – including his own. Twenty-six bestsellers, but none made him happier than the last six. Alexis trailed her fingers over the spines of the hardcover editions, thinking back to just how happy he became once he met Detective Beckett. Even early on, when she wasn't all that fond of him, he had a bounce in his step she hadn't seen in a long time.

It was just a shame it took them so long to figure things out; maybe if they hadn't taken so long, they would've had their wedding. They would've been able to experience life together as a married couple. Hell, maybe Alexis would've had a little half-brother or half-sister by now.

Or maybe he was gonna disappear on his wedding day no matter what.

Alexis sat in her father's chair, sighing and running her fingers through her hair. She felt the burning of tears threatening to spill over, but she inhaled deeply to keep them at bay. No…she didn't come here to cry. She'd shed enough tears in this place. She'd have her cry later…somewhere else.

Doing her best to ignore the layer of dust on the desk – and really, on everything – Alexis pulled open one of the drawers. It was a lot neater than she expected; she was prepared to find disorganized papers and all manner of other things strewn about in no discernable order. But everything appeared to be in order, even the calendar book he kept.

The last date on it? His wedding day.

Closing the drawer, Alexis pushed a button on his landline phone. The last number on the display belonged to Gina Cowell, from two weeks before the wedding. Alexis frowned; why would he be calling Gina? Weren't they through, both personally and professionally? He couldn't have invited her to the wedding; there was no way in hell Detec…_Kate_ would allow that.

She opened the bottom drawer, which was the largest one. She frowned upon noticing that the only thing in the drawer was a large stack of paper, put together like a manuscript. Confused, she grabbed the stack and lifted it onto the desk. It was bound like a manuscript, and it had a cover page.

_Molten Heat_.

"What?" she shook her head, flipping through the pages. Something wasn't right. He hadn't been working on a new book. Had he? When? He didn't have time to write a new book…not between all those murders he and Detective Beckett were solving and the wedding they were planning.

Besides, if he _was_ working on a new book, he would've mentioned it.

Right?

Alexis flipped to a random page, her eyes scanning the text. It was her father's writing, alright…all the way down to the typos she couldn't believe a bestselling author would make. She remembered when she was in high school, spending her weekends taking a red pen to all of his manuscripts. A smile tickled at her lips before she shook it off, closing the manuscript again.

A new Nikki Heat book he didn't tell anyone about. A phone call to his ex-wife/publisher two weeks before the wedding. Alexis chewed on her lip, stewing over everything in her mind. None of this made any sense. Something felt wrong, in her gut, but she couldn't place it.

Fishing for her phone, Alexis' fingers trembled as she tracked down Kate's number. She brought the phone to her ear, opening the cover page again. A twinge of curiosity brought her to the dedication page; she always loved reading her father's dedications. But when she saw the dedication for _Molten Heat_, her heart stopped.

"Beckett."

Alexis sat, mouth agape, eyes fixated on the page. She'd momentarily forgotten about the phone pinned to her ear, a cold shudder running down her spine."

"Hello?"

"Um," Alexis swallowed hard. "Hi, Kate. Uh, listen…there's something you need to see."


	4. Chapter 4

"I don't understand…"

The manuscript for _Molten Heat_ sat on Kate Beckett's coffee table, untouched. She and Alexis Castle sat on the couch, staring at it, their brows furrowed in a mixture of confusion, hurt, and more than a twinge of anger. Kate had often dreamed of finally stumbling upon answers about her fiancé's disappearance one day, but this was far more muddled and aggravating than anything she ever imagined.

"If he was writing a new book," she bit her lower lip, "why wouldn't he say anything?"

Alexis shrugged. "And when did he find time to write it?"

After the first Nikki Heat book, Kate made it a point to never read Castle's material before it was released to the general public; hell, she'd never even so much as peeked at his work while it was in-progress. So in that regard, it was entirely within the realm of possibility that he would've been working on another Heat novel without her knowing – except for the fact that he always told her when he started a new one.

Kate had placed a call earlier in the day to Gina Cowell, but got no answer. She left a voicemail, knowing full well she had a better chance of hitting the lottery than hearing back from Castle's second ex-wife.

Kate's frown deepened. "You're _sure_ he never mentioned a new book?"

Alexis shook her head. "Nope. You?"

The redhead grabbed the manuscript again, running her fingers over the text. "I used to be his editor," she whispered. "I mean, not for real, but…he'd finish a draft and give me a pen and…off I went. I'd lose myself in these books for hours."

Kate sat back. "Funny, I never pegged you as a fan."

"Well, I wasn't," she shrugged. "Not after reading his drafts over and over and over again. Didn't help knowing he deliberately took certain chapters out of the manuscript before handing it to me. He thought I never noticed, but I did."

Kate smiled despite herself, knowing exactly what chapters Alexis meant. _It's on page 105…_

"Have you read this one?"

Alexis shook her head. "Only enough to know that's his writing." She handed the manuscript to Kate. "I…can't bring myself to read any more."

As her eyes danced over the paper, Kate's frown deepened. She opened to a random point in the manuscript, her eyes dancing back and forth over the ink. She flipped to the next page, then the next, then the next…before setting the manuscript down in her lap and looking at Alexis.

"Something's not right." When Alexis sat up a little straighter, Kate flipped through the pages again. "If this has been stuck in a drawer for three years, how has the paper not aged? These pages look like they were just printed."

Alexis frowned. "You think it was planted?"

"Alexis, who all has a key to the loft?"

"Just the two of us…and I guess the super at the building."

Upright with a burst of energy she hadn't felt in a long time, Kate crossed over to her murder board, pulling open the shutters before grabbing one of her permanent markers and scribbling "New book?" and underlining it. To the left of that was the memory card with the video on it; she'd taped it to the board.

Unbeknownst to Kate, Alexis had joined her side. Her eyes danced over the murder board, a lump in her throat as her gaze passed over her father's promotional photo. "Should we, you know, bring in the others on this?"

Kate chewed on her lower lip, squinting. This was the closest to normal she'd felt in a long time. "Not yet," she shook her head. "Not until we get something a little more concrete. If I don't hear from Gina by tomorrow morning," she couldn't help but sneak in an eye-roll, "I'll call the publishing office directly."

Kate's heartbeat pounded in her chest. Her eyes darted back and forth over the murder board. She felt something akin to adrenaline running through her veins; it had been so long since she'd felt this kind of a rush. Time was, it was so common that it happened practically every time she found a lead.

She jotted on the board again: "Publisher?"

It wasn't much; she knew this was a stretch. The proverbial needle in a haystack. Full of haystacks. But it was more than she had a couple days ago, and for someone in her line of work, that could be everything.

But even now, she was trying to keep herself calm. Because if this turned out just like every other lead she'd chased in the years since Richard Castle's disappearance, she knew what kind of grief awaited her.

Then again…if this _did_ pan out, what then?

If by some _miracle_ he was out there somewhere, still alive, and they did cross paths again, what was in store for them? They'd lost three years of their lives, after being on the precipice of their greatest moment. Much as she hoped she could, Kate knew that even in the best of circumstances, there was no rushing off to the chapel to give this wedding thing another go.

No…no matter what happened, there was a world of pain ahead. Which, in that regard, made this uncertain future a lot like the recent past for her.

"There's, um," Alexis handed Kate the manuscript again, "one more thing. Read the dedication."

Kate turned the page so fast, she nearly got a papercut on her right index finger. Her eyes took in every word, her heart racing. Her eyes burnt. She closed them and took a deep breath; she could feel Alexis watching her. Her fingers trembled.

_To KB, M__**a**__rtha, a**nd** A__lex__is...I c__an__'t wait to b**e**gin life with the ext**r**aor__d__inary wom__e__n who make thi**s** new family and j**o**u__r__**n**ey possible. __**C**__ome what may, ou__**r**__ l__**o**__ve will endure; it will __**s**__urvive. My love, alway__**s**__._

A couple tears escaped and fell down her cheeks. Kate had to sit down; her knees felt weak. For a moment, it felt like the walls were closing in on her. Alexis joined her on the couch, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She took a deep breath, shaking her head, wiping at her eyes.

"He's still with me," she sniffled, "even now…"

Alexis pointed at the page. "Look again…some of the letters were bolded."

The two women stood again and approached the murder board. Kate grabbed the marker, her eyes glued to the page. She wrote each letter that was bolded, only to drop the marker when she looked up and saw what they spelled: **Anderson Cross.**


	5. Chapter 5

The man who went by the name Anderson Cross was washing his hands for the 10th time that day. Blood always was hard to get off of one's hands – especially whatever got under his fingernails. This was the part he hated about torture; it always made such a bloody mess.

Still, conventional questioning wasn't getting him anywhere. To this point, torture wasn't working, either, but in Cross' decades of experience, he knew it was only a matter of time before the man strapped to the chair with duct tape over his mouth cracked. He had to. There really was no other option.

Cross ran his fingers through his white hair before rolling up the sleeves on his purple button-down. He crossed to the chair, seated in the middle of a dimly-lit warehouse. A faucet drip broke the silence, though Cross could hear his captive's labored breath as he drew closer to the chair. Cross grabbed a rusty crowbar, twirling it in his grasp and staring at the blood on the end.

"If I'm being honest," Cross dropped to a knee, leveling a gaze at the other man, "it's not me you have to be worried about."

Cross stood, hoisting the crowbar over his shoulder. The man in the chair, a low-level informant named Viktor, flinched. His left eye was bloodshot, the cut along his right cheek was still bleeding. He tried to keep an upright posture, determined to show his captor that he wasn't afraid, but his trembling hands, balled into fists, betrayed him.

"I wouldn't even worry about your employer…I mean, it seems like everyone connected to him the last several years has either wound up dead or in prison. So if you're keeping your mouth shut because you're afraid they'll find you out…calm down."

The knuckles on Viktor's right hand were swollen; Cross had broken them, one by one, several hours ago. Cross lowered his gaze toward the knuckles, chewing on his lower lip before cracking the crowbar against them. Viktor violently flinched and cried into the duct tape around his mouth, shaking and squeezing his eyes shut.

"But let me tell you who you _do_ need to be worried about…" Cross dropped the crowbar, grabbing another chair, setting it across from Viktor and taking a seat, resting his arms against the top of the back. "See, there's a girl out there. Stubborn. Headstrong. Unwavering sense of justice unlike anything I've ever seen."

Viktor stared at Cross, hate in his tear-filled eyes.

"She's also _madly_ in love with my boy. See, that's where your people made their biggest mistake." Cross stood and picked up the crowbar again, wrapping the blunt end of it in gauze before dipping the gauze in a vat of lighter fluid. Cross smiled when he saw Viktor's eyes widen.

"He was kidnapped on their wedding day." Cross flicked open a Zippo, ignited the gauze. The flames danced around his face, and Viktor whimpered with a full-body shiver. He waved the flaming crowbar in front of Viktor's face, close enough for the battered man to feel the heat, to fear the possibility of having something attached to him set aflame.

But just as Viktor was sure he'd start to feel flames eating at his flesh, Cross doused the flame and rapped the crowbar against his broken knuckles again. Viktor's face contorted in such pain, his scream so boisterous, the duct tape threatened to fall off.

"Let me tell you a story," Cross began, yanking the duct tape the rest of the way off. "Long time ago, this woman's mother was brutally murdered in an alley. For years and years, there were no leads, no arrests. Nothing. Then…the faucet drips. One drip. Then two. Then another. Then another."

Cross returned to his chair. "They put a bullet in this woman's chest, _in her heart_, and she survived. They threatened her. She kept pushing. They tried to get my son to lead her off the trail. She kept coming. Eventually, she walked in on the bastard's press conference and slapped the cuffs on him.

"So what makes you or your employer think this won't end any different?"

Viktor snarled, his Russian accent thick as molasses. "Bracken was pawn."

"Yes, he was." Cross cracked his knuckles. "For all of his power and influence, William Bracken was just a pawn. He was expendable. As are you."

Sweat trickled down Viktor's temple, mixing with the blood drying into his skin. His eyes darted over the darkness behind Cross. His knuckles throbbed. He swallowed hard. The tough act was a failure; Viktor saw no version of events in which he walked out of this warehouse and resumed his life. One way or another, his days were numbered.

"She just a cop!" Viktor gave bravado one last try. "Even if she find us, she no have…jurisdiction."

Moving his chair closer to Viktor's, Cross grabbed his left wrist and snapped the pinky back until it broke, the sound of bone popping drowned out by Viktor's pained cries. He whimpered and sniffled, refusing to meet Cross' gaze. When Viktor didn't say anything, Cross grabbed his ring finger, forcing it back until it, too, snapped.

Viktor's scream echoed throughout the empty warehouse. The lone window near the ceiling didn't let in much light; clouds covered the sky, and if the time on Cross' watch was correct, they were approaching sunset.

Cross grabbed Viktor's middle finger, holding it in place. "Name."

"Viktor."

Cross rolled his eyes. "Not _your_ name." He snapped Viktor's middle finger. "The ringleader! The son of a bitch who has my son!"

Viktor whimpered from the pain, his nostrils flaring. He trembled, both hands throbbing. He felt as if he might pass out from the pain at any moment, and he gritted his teeth when he felt Cross grab his right index finger.

"Viktor."

_Snap._ Cross snarled when he broke the finger. For the first time, Viktor saw the anger in Cross' eyes. He couldn't even yelp in pain this time; he was rendered speechless by the expression on the other man's face. Cross hovered over Viktor, hands on his shoulders. Their faces were inches apart.

"You're right." Cross' voice was almost a growl. "She doesn't have jurisdiction. Not out here. And to be honest, I don't either. Then again, that's cause I'm not affiliated with anyone."

Cross stood, undoing the buttons on his shirt before pulling it off of his shoulders. Tossing the shirt to the side, he grabbed the back of Viktor's neck with his left hand before smashing his right fist into the guy's nose as hard as he could. Viktor grunted and recoiled, blood spilling from his nostrils.

Cross produced a blade from his back pocket, roughly five inches in length, the sharp edge jagged in the middle. He twirled the blade in his hand, eyeing his trembling captive. Viktor looked an awful lot like prey.

"I answer to no one." Cross jammed the blade into Viktor's right leg, eliciting an ear-splitting scream.

"So you _will_ answer to me."


	6. Chapter 6

"I know we're in the middle of an investigation, sir—"

"Ryan and Esposito can close it." Captain Victoria Gates removed her glasses and leveled an even stare toward Kate. She wasn't thrilled with one of her detectives begging off of work in the middle of a case, but given the circumstances, Gates had to be accommodating…mostly because of the promise she made to Kate when Richard Castle first disappeared.

"You do whatever you need to do, Detective." Gates folded her glasses and set them on the desk before resting her hands on the wooden surface. "But answer me this: why _now_?"

Despite everything, Kate Beckett always felt like she was walking on eggshells whenever she discussed anything Castle-related with Gates. Gates had made her feelings toward him clear from day one, though her stance had softened somewhat in recent years – but old feelings brewed up again in the immediate aftermath of his disappearance.

For some in the 12th, those feelings never really went away again.

"It's…his father, sir." Kate swallowed and approached the desk, glancing out the blinded window at the bustle in the precinct. Ryan and Esposito had just brought in a suspect for questioning in the Kopowski case. Maybe Gates was right; maybe they would solve it while she was gone.

"Alexis thinks Castle's father sent us a message. And…if he's going through that sort of trouble…"

"…then there's a chance Mr. Castle is still alive." Gates nodded and sighed. "Just don't get your hopes up, Detective. It's been three years. Best case scenario, Mr. Castle's going to have _a lot_ of explaining to do."

Gates emerged from behind her desk, standing directly in front of Kate and placing a hand on her shoulder. Kate flinched, her brow scrunched in confusion. She never knew Gates to show this side of herself – particularly within the confines of the precinct. Kate looked down at the ring on her finger.

"What are you gonna do if you find him, Detective?"

"Kiss him." Kate's voice was soft, just a tick above a whisper. "Slap him. Hug him so tight, he might break a rib."

She'd never admit this to anyone, but to this day, Kate still dreamt of what that day would be like. She knew how bleak the odds were; she understood, intellectually, that she probably had a better chance of hitting the Powerball than of seeing her fiancé alive again. But she hoped against hope, and on the nights she actually slept, she dreamed.

She dreamed of running into him on the street. She dreamed of him showing up at her desk, out of blue, two cups of coffee in-hand. She dreamed of busting down the door to a nondescript warehouse with the SWAT team, finding him tied to a chair, his mouth closed off with duct tape.

She dreamed of putting a bullet in someone's head to save him. She dreamed of swinging by the loft to visit Alexis, only to have him open the door. She dreamed of them meeting at the swing set, where the wall started coming down, where he gave her that ring.

She also dreamed of the past.

Breaking up with Demming, so sure that she was ready to admit to Castle – and to herself – her feelings…only to watch his ex-wife Gina stroll in at the pivotal moment to whisk him away to paradise.

Their first kiss. A play at subterfuge for a case. Locked in the freezer. The dirty bomb.

Gasping what she thought would be her last breaths, finally hearing Castle speak the words they both knew were true. So desperate to return those words to him before blacking out. The look of anger on his face months later when she showed up at a book signing.

Sitting on that swing, alone, in the pouring rain. Shattered by the realization that she'd stared death in the face yet again and still hadn't admitted her feelings. The fight they'd had before, where every word he threw at her rang true, but her damn wall…

The knock on his door. That first _true _kiss. The hurt in his eyes. The next kiss. That hurt morphing into desire. Another kiss. Then another. The scar. He touched her scar. The tangible, physical proof that he knew her, understood her, better than anyone ever had.

The asshole playboy novelist who bugged her on a daily basis had become her trusted partner, her confidant, the driving force for her finally bringing her mother's killer to justice. It wasn't just the daily coffee that brought a smile to her face; it was him.

It had _always_ been him.

If someone asked Kate why she barely slept anymore, that was why. Every time she closed her eyes, the past nine years were on replay. The highs, the lows. The monumental moments, the seemingly insignificant chit-chat. The theory-building, the smile on Castle's face whenever Kate bonded with Martha and Alexis.

She didn't need to re-live all of those moments. They were etched so deeply into her mind, her heart, that she felt each and every one of them as if they had occurred just seconds earlier. Her hand instinctively went to her scar, which had faded in recent years but was still prominent.

"You might have to bury him."

Kate shot Gates an angry glare before relenting, realizing that she was probably right. But that wasn't their style, was it? The two of them had made a habit out of cheating death. She'd lost count of how many times one or both of them had stared certain doom in the face, only to be whisked to safety at the last minute.

They hadn't run out of lives yet…had they?

"I just need to know." Kate cleared her throat and stood up a little straighter, hoping to hide the emotion threatening to spill out all over again. "One way or another."

Gates extended her right hand. "Then I'll see you when you get back, Detective."

Kate shook Gates' hand and tried her best to smile. "Thank you, sir." Gates led her out of the office and back into the general area of the precinct. Kate's phone buzzed; it was a text from Alexis.

_Come to the loft. Urgent!_

Pocketing her phone, Kate sighed. She didn't have time for goodbyes; she hoped Ryan, Esposito and Lanie would understand. Maybe she'd call Lanie later, fill her in on the details and hope that information trickled to the others. Kate wandered past the interrogation room; Ryan and Esposito were still grilling their suspect.

Kate eyed the text again, waiting on the elevator. The doors opened with a ping, masking the sound of the door to the interrogation room opening, and Kate was about to step through them when a voice stopped her.

"Hey, Beckett!"

Kate looked up in time to see Esposito jogging toward the elevator. With a sigh, Kate held the doors open. She tried not to let the distrust show on her face, but given Esposito's behavior whenever Richard Castle came up anymore, she doubted it worked.

She stood in silence, waiting for Esposito to continue.

"Bring him back."


	7. Chapter 7

The key to Richard Castle's lock jingled against the rest of Kate Beckett's keys, her hand trembling as she tried to get her way in. Her heart pounded in her chest, the rapid _thump-thump-thump_ pounding in her ears. Alexis' text had her on red alert. Her nerves prevented the key from finding the slot; she cursed under her breath before pausing to steady herself.

Finally, the key went through. She turned the key, pushing through the door and running into the living room. Her eyes darted from the office to the kitchen.

"Alexis!"

Silence. Kate reached for her gun; it was instinct at this point. She stepped as slowly as she could, careful to not let her shoes make any noise against the hardwood floor. Her eyes scanned the area – most of the loft looked the same as she remembered years before.

Kate lowered her gun, but didn't holster it. "Alexis?!"

Loud footfalls barreled down the stairs. Kate raised her gun, nerves frayed. She tried to steady her heartbeat, every muscle in her body tense. The steps grew louder and louder, until feet became visible.

Her gun lifted even higher. "NYPD, put your hands—"

Kate fell silent upon seeing a sea of red hair. Her heart skipped a beat, and Alexis stood at the base of the stairs with a stunned look. It took Kate a few seconds to gather her bearings before she lowered her weapon and returned it to its holster. "Alexis."

"Hey."

Frowning, Kate looked over her shoulder. "You said it was urgent, what—"

The sound of footsteps interrupted her. Mouth agape, she watched as another body revealed itself descending the staircase. She saw a pair of hands buttoning cufflinks on a blue button-down shirt, her heart in her throat. It wasn't until the figure joined Alexis across from her that Beckett blinked and did a double-take.

"Anderson Cross?!"

He smiled sheepishly, nodding once. "Guilty as charged." He exchanged glances with Alexis before crossing into the kitchen to pour himself a mug of coffee. "Want some?"

Still reeling from the sight of Richard Castle's father, Kate shot Alexis a questioning glance. The redhead shrugged. "No." She joined Cross in the kitchen. "Caffeine's actually the last thing I need right now, Mister…I'm sorry, what _is_ your name?"

Taking a sip, Cross sighed. "Just…call me Cross."

"Sorry." Alexis joined Kate, grabbing her hand and offering a sheepish smile. "I came back from my tutoring session, and he was, um, already…here."

"Care to tell me why you're breaking into your son's loft, Cross?" Kate didn't even try to hide the scowl on her face. Wherever this man went, chaos followed. The fact that she saw a heaviness in her fiancé the last time he dropped in, worried over what kind of father he may or may not have missed out on, didn't help matters.

The fact that he was here now, a whole three years after his son went missing, also angered her.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed on, crossing the counter to get in his face. "Three years, he's been gone! _Three. Years!_ Where have you been all that time?!" She jabbed her finger into his chest, tears threatening the corners of her eyes. "He is your _son_!"

Alexis slipped in between Cross and Kate to separate them, pushing Kate back a couple of feet. A tear trickled down her cheek, her teeth gritted. "You couldn't even be bothered to show yourself when we buried Martha, could you?!"

Cross averted his gaze. "I was…working."

"Working." Kate spat the word. "Whose life are you ruining now?"

"I was looking for my son!" he yelled, closing his eyes when Kate flinched. He sighed, his shoulders relaxing. "I'm still looking."

Kate leveled an angry gaze. "Yeah…we got your message."

Cross glanced between Kate and Alexis. "The manuscript." He took a seat on one of the stools by the counter, sighing and crossing his arms. Alexis joined him. Kate kept her distance, keeping a hand on her gun. Everything about this man waved red flags, as far as she was concerned.

Alexis frowned. "When did dad write a new book?"

Kate finally joined Alexis at the counter, her hand on the redhead's shoulder. She studied Cross' features, the way he wouldn't meet their gaze, the slight hunch in his shoulders. The way he twiddled his thumbs, as if he could quite keep his hands completely still.

"He…didn't write _Molten Heat_, did he?" Kate's heart sank the moment the words left her mouth.

"No." Cross sighed and scratched at an imaginary itch on his right shoulder. He finally looked at the two women across from him: the granddaughter he only ever saw from afar and the daughter-in-law he had been just hours away from having. "I did."

"But," Alexis paused to look at Kate, "I read some of it. That's _his_ writing. His turn of phrase, his sentence structure, his…occasional habit of typing 'shit' instead of 'shot'…"

"I was thorough." Cross scratched at his shoulder again. "I have every book he's ever written. Lost count of how many times I've read them." He took another sip of coffee before pushing the mug to the side. "When he first went missing, I enlisted every contact I have to look for him. Came up empty."

Kate rolled her eyes. "Something we have in common."

"A year ago," Cross sighed, "I got a hit. From a contact in Russia. Said there was an international drug cartel that still had ties to Future Forward."

Alexis frowned. "The SuperPAC? I thought that dissolved when Bracken went down."

Cross shook his head. "His son took it over after the trial. Far as the public knows, instead of funding elections, that money now goes to fighting corruption and advocating for government transparency."

Kate couldn't believe this; even behind bars, Bracken was finding ways to make her life hell. If what Cross said was true, that is. She was far from convinced. "Let me guess…Russian drug money."

"Bracken was my first guess," Cross stared at his fingers. "After Rick disappeared. It was so soon after you arrested him, that I was convinced he was somehow tied to it all. Maybe not _him_, specifically, but someone tied to him. Someone who wasn't thrilled with you putting him behind bars."

"But we looked into that angle," Kate argued. "_I_ looked into that angle. Several times. Nothing came up."

"I hit all the same dead ends." Cross stood, cracking his knuckles. For a moment, Kate thought she saw something – regret? – flash in his eyes. He removed the glasses he had been wearing, placing them on the counter.

"A year ago, I heard from an old CIA contact in Moscow. Said they had a hit on a drug lord named Dmirti Rankoff. Rap sheet as long as a Harry Potter book. But because of his connections within the Russian government and elsewhere, no one could ever touch him. I didn't think much of it at first, until my informant told me about someone he used to work for."

Kate saw Cross' eyes flash again, a little darker this time. A twisted feeling of dread gnawed at her; she still wasn't sure if she should believe the man seated before her, but her intuition kept her from completely blowing him off. He _was_ Castle's father, after all.

Whatever that meant.

"Vulcan Simmons."

Kate's heart skipped a beat and she lost breath for a moment. The detective grabbed Alexis' shoulder and squeezed, the shock written all over her face. Alexis grabbed her hand and squeezed, her face etched in worry. "Kate…?"

"Rankoff was one of Simmons' right-hand men," Cross explained, "until Simmons wound up dead and Bracken got desperate. Rankoff used the commotion surrounding Bracken's arrest to flee the country and set up shop on his own – using a lot of the same people. My informant says he's responsible for Rick's kidnapping, and that we shouldn't assume anything at this point."

Cross finished his coffee, placing the mug in the sink. He joined Kate and Alexis on the same side of the counter, relaxing his posture. "Look, I know what you think of me, Detective, and I don't blame you. I've been a lot of things over the years, most of them no good. But…"

He sighed, taking Kate's hand. She flinched, but relented. "Yes, I wrote _Molten Heat_. I wrote the dedication to send you and Alexis a message. But there's no ending." He smiled at the confused glances directed his way. "The last three chapters? They're actually intel on Rankoff. Read those chapters, Detective Beckett, then you can decide if you want to accompany me on a trip to Japan."

Kate's frown deepened. "Japan?"

"Rankoff's meeting some associates in Tokyo next week. He's making the trip alone, so this may be my best shot at getting him and finding out what happened to Rick."

Alexis stood and joined Kate's side. "_Our_ best shot." Cross opened his mouth to argue, but Alexis shushed him with a finger and a stern glare. "If Kate goes, I go. He's my father…" She began to tear up, inhaling deeply to steel herself. "…and frankly, as much as I appreciate what you did for me in Paris, I trust her much more than you."

Kate grabbed Alexis' hand. "But…what about Harvard?"

Alexis laid her head on Kate's shoulder. "It's Dad…if he's out there, if he's still alive, Harvard can wait."

Kate turned her attention back to Cross. "One more thing…why no ending?"

Cross gave a hopeful smile. "Because I want Rick to write it."

* * *

><p><em>Thanks to everyone who's been reading along so far! This was originally supposed to be a one-off, but it's taken on a life of its own, and I'm glad you all are joining the journey along with me. Please, as always, feel free to leave feedback and keep coming back for future chapters!<em>


	8. Chapter 8

The clock read 3:28 a.m. Kate Beckett's temples were throbbing.

She massaged them with a grunt, huddled up in what used to be her fiancé's bed. Papers were strewn about on the mattress, the manuscript resting in her lap. She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath; this was probably the most maddening thing she'd ever read.

Shuffling feet caught her attention, and Kate looked up to see Alexis wander into the room with a pair of mugs. She gave Kate a soft smile, handing her one of the mugs before sitting on the edge of the bed. "Getting anywhere?"

Kate sipped at her mug, taking a moment to enjoy the warmth. Hot cocoa was a godsend at this point. She sighed and placed her mug on the nightstand. "I wish." She puffed a strand of hair out of her face. "This is like working at the Attorney General's office all over again."

The one thing Kate didn't miss about her federal job – well, aside from the constant moral compromising she was subjected to – was how reports were written. The overuse of words, the constant doublespeak, the realization that half of what was written would probably be redacted…just because.

The intel Cross said was at the end of the manuscript for _Molten Heat_ was much the same way. She was only on the third page, and already she'd had to stop and re-read almost every sentence. Uncle Sam needed to hire better writers.

Sadly, the only good one she knew of was nowhere to be found – if he was even alive.

"The money Castle dropped off to pay for smashing that SUV," Kate mused, flipping through the pages, "it traces through several off-shore accounts, with an origin in the Ukraine. Rankoff's name is all over it."

Alexis frowned, taking a sip from her mug. "How did no one notice this until now?"

Kate sighed. "If Dmitri Rankoff is still connected to the Brackens, he probably paid off the right people to make sure we never did." She jotted a quick note in the top corner of one of the pages. "I mean, it's one thing for the NYPD to never tie Rankoff to the kidnapping, but you'd think the feds would've found something."

Alexis rolled her eyes. "Except the feds never really took the case seriously. The FBI was here for, what, three days? Then they just shrugged their shoulders, said dad just left, and went back to D.C."

Kate let Alexis' words stew for a few moments, allowing herself time to again bitterly think back to the ineptitude of the FBI when Richard Castle first disappeared. Then a light bulb seemingly went off inside her head; Kate shot Alexis a questioning glance, nearly knocking over the mug of hot chocolate as she grabbed for her phone.

Alexis frowned. "What? What is it?"

"What if it wasn't ineptitude?" Kate's fingers frantically pushed at the numbers on her screen before she placed the device to her ear. "What if…?" She couldn't bring herself to finish the thought; fortunately for her, the line picked up at just that moment.

"Special Agent McCord."

Kate activated speaker phone and placed the device on the bed. "Rachel, it's Kate. Kate Beckett."

There was no answer. Kate checked her phone to make sure the line hadn't been disconnected before she heard a click on the other end. "Detective." Was there a hint of a smile in McCord's voice? "I was told to expect a call."

Kate's frown deepened. "Let me guess…a guy named Cross."

"He called himself Hunt," McCord corrected.

Alexis rolled her eyes and mouthed, _Pick a name and stick with it._

Kate couldn't help but roll her eyes as well. For a guy who spent so many years absent from his son's life, this Cross, or Hunt, or whatever the hell his name was today, sure made a habit of swooping in and upsetting everything. Who _was_ this guy? And what was he after?

Kate wanted to believe he was just looking for his son, but she couldn't trust that.

"So I guess you know _why_ I'm calling."

"Your fiancé." McCord's tone gave nothing away. Kate knew she was less than enthralled with Richard Castle when they first met – though in fairness, it was because he meddled in a sensitive case he had no business knowing anything about. Shadowing an NYPD cop was a far cry from shadowing a federal agent.

Kate and Alexis shared a confused glance. McCord was silent for several moments, and all the duo in the bedroom could hear was a series of clicks and a door being slammed shut. Static overtook the line before it went silent. The detective and the redhead locked eyes again, and Kate was about to grab her phone when McCord finally spoke again.

"I've secured this line, but we only have a minute. Truth is, I've been tracking Mr. Castle since his abduction. Dead end after dead end after dead end…but when Mr. Hunt put me on the trail of Rankoff, the pieces started fitting. I can't tell you whether your fiancé is dead or alive, Kate – frankly, I'm not optimistic – but if you want answers, accompany Mr. Hunt to Japan."

Kate's frown deepened, her fingers interlocking with Alexis'. "You mean to tell me you actually trust hi—"

McCord cut her off. "I'm out of time. Japan. Go."

The line went dead.

Kate sighed, tossing the manuscript to the floor and staring at the ceiling. She felt Alexis shift next to her, until the redhead placed her head on the detective's shoulder. Kate, almost on pure instinct, leaned against Alexis, their fingers intertwined. Alexis was the closest thing she'd probably ever have to a child at this point; hell, she'd been hours away from being her stepmother.

They'd grown distant in the months since Castle's disappearance, but the video messages, and the slow trickle of bread crumbs that pointed to potentially solving this mystery, brought them closer. Kate knew Alexis didn't really have anyone since Martha's death, and if Kate were being honest with herself, she didn't really have anyone anymore.

So it seemed fate that the duo bonded like this, and it was only natural that it revolved around the most important person in their respective lives. Sure, they had lives of their own; before this break, Kate was always working a case, and it felt at times as if Alexis practically lives in the library at Harvard. But at the end of the day, when all of the noise fell silent and all of their responsibilities were through, their minds drifted back to the same place. The same person.

"Kate?"

Giving Alexis' hand a squeeze, Kate forced a smile. "Yeah?"

"It's gonna be weird, isn't it?" The redhead looked up at Kate. "If we find him alive."

"Probably." The detective heaved an exhausted sigh, closing her eyes. She really didn't feel like fighting off tears right now. She'd done enough crying over the past three years. Now, she just wanted to get this done, find out once and for all what happened to Richard Castle.

"I mean…as bad as this sounds, him being dead is the simplest answer. If he's alive, then…what was he doing? Why couldn't anyone find him? Did he try to reach out to someone? If not, why? If he's alive, how does he fit in our lives again?" The detective fell silent, starting at her hand intertwined with Alexis'. She felt her fingers tremble.

"Does he still fit in mine…?"

"Hey…" Alexis sat up, taking Kate's hand into both of hers. She ran her thumb along Kate's finger, and for a moment, the detective had a flashback. "Don't sell yourself short. You two have, like, the eternal love. The kind they write stories about."

She smiled when Kate arched a brow, trying to ignore the tears burning the edges of her eyes. "Remember the night we first met? At the bookstore after one of his readings? I saw the way he looked at you even then, and I knew there wasn't a power in the 'verse that was gonna keep the two of you apart."

Kate squeezes Alexis' hands in response, a tear spilling out onto her face. She wiped at it with her free hand, gasping a ragged breath and silently cursing the redhead for making her cry again. "Even when he got back with Gina," Alexis continued, "I knew it was only temporary."

Kate looked down, starting to cry. It wasn't quite the ravaging sobs of the other night, when she saw the video for the first time, but the detective was tiring of the habit of crying over the love of her life in the presence of his daughter. Not that Alexis minded…how could she, as she wrapped her arms around Kate for a hug?

"If he's alive," she whispered in Kate's ear, "and we find him, I guarantee you two'll find your way again. I mean, you've beat all the odds to this point, right?"

Kate sniffled, wiping her nose with her left wrist before managing to give Alexis a sad smile. She kissed Alexis' forehead and pulled her in for a tighter hug. "Always…"

"Then I guess we're off to Japan."

* * *

><p><em>Thanks to everyone who's still hanging around, reading each chapter! Your support is amazing, and it makes me feel welcome, even though I'm still relatively new to this fandom. Please keep reading and offering feedback!<em>


	9. Chapter 9

"C'mon, Espo…there's something you're not telling me."

With the Kopowski case closed, and the rightful killer on their way to a nice, long stay behind bars. Kevin Ryan and Javier Esposito could finally address the underlying tension that had been there throughout. Ryan noticed it when Esposito bolted out of the interrogation room while questioning a suspect the previous day, just so he could give Kate Beckett a message.

Ryan thought that strange, but kept quiet because they were busy with the case. But that was over now, and the long-time partners and friends had some things they needed to hash out. Truth was, they probably should've worked out these issues a long time ago, but a combination of stubborn pride and a neverending string of cases prevented it.

Ryan shut the door to the break room, standing by the espresso machine and toying with one of the mugs. He almost brewed himself a mug of something out of instinct, but he couldn't tear his accusatory glare away from his partner long enough to do it.

"How do you know where Beckett's going?"

Ryan cringed when he saw his partner's shoulders straighten. He'd tried hard over the past three years not to bring up anything related to Richard Castle, because he didn't want any more friction than there already was at the 12th, but between Beckett's threat to leave the precinct and now Esposito's strange behavior…Ryan _had_ to know what was going on.

"Javi…"

"Come on, bro…" Esposito's face contorted into a snarl. "Where else would she be going? Why else would she bolt the precinct in the middle of an investigation?"

Esposito began pacing, cracking his knuckles. Castle was a sore spot with him, had been since shortly after his disappearance. The video evidence of Richard Castle paying to have the SUV that took him away was damning, and while everyone had been skeptical, Esposito's feelings were much harsher…and he hadn't been shy about sharing them.

Not even the passing years, or mitigating evidence, had quelled his anger.

Ryan shrugged, part of him realizing how futile having this conversation really was. "Answers? Closure?"

"The guy's _dead_, Kevin!"

"You don't think she knows that?!" Both cops were momentarily stunned by just how Ryan had raised his voice; he so seldom did that, and he hardly ever spoke to his partner that way. Esposito sat at one of the tables, purposefully avoiding Ryan's gaze. Ryan grabbed a mug to brew himself a cup of coffee.

It wasn't a beer, but it would have to do for now.

"Look," Ryan finally brought himself to look at his partner again. "I guarantee you she knows that. She's not stupid, Javi, and neither are you! You've seen her the last three years. Just…going through the motions. You go through the things she went through with him, you grow a love that deep, and watch it all snatched away from you in a flash…it's gonna do something to you."

Esposito refused to look at his friend. "And what, you think closure's gonna fix that?"

"It did when she arrested Bracken."

Silence fell between the two detectives again as Ryan stirred a spoonful of sugar into his coffee. He took a test sip, hissing at how hot the beverage was. Setting the spoon aside, he finally joined Esposito at the table.

"You still haven't answered my question."

Esposito glanced through the blinds, making sure there was no one about to come into the break room. Captain Gates was holed up in her office, phone practically attached to her ear. Uniformed officers roamed the floor like busy worker bees; a telephone rang in the distance, going unanswered.

When he regarded Ryan again, Esposito's voice was barely above a whisper. "Two months ago, I got a phone call from her dad. Said he was worried about her, wanted to know if I'd check in on her from time to time."

Ryan sipped on his coffee, brows raised.

"Wanted me to keep it low-key, don't let her know I was tailin' her." Another glance over his shoulder. "It's a good thing I did, too, cause shit's getting' deep…Castle's father is back in the picture, and he says he can lead her to his son."

Ryan nearly did a spit-take. "So, we're talkin' CIA-level stuff now?"

"I dunno, bro." Esposito leaned in, his voice even lower than it had been previously. "I don't think he's affiliated with anyone. But he's walking her right into the clutches of a Russian drug lord named Rankoff."

Ryan sat back in his seat, dread all over his face. He no longer felt like drinking coffee. "Shit…" He shook his head. "This isn't just about Castle anymore, is it?"

Esposito shook his head. "That son of a bitch has her jetting halfway across the world on the false hope of finding her long-lost love, when more than anything, he's leading her straight into the abyss."

Ryan frowned. "So why tell her to bring back Castle?"

"Cause if anyone can defy the odds like that, it's her."

* * *

><p><em>This chapter's a little shorter than the others, but it's still moving the story forward. Once again, I appreciate all of the favorites and the reviews; I enjoy knowing that people are liking this story and wanting to see what's next. I can't believe where this is going, when it started off a just a one-shot "What if..." kinda thing. Keep reading!<em>


	10. Chapter 10

Dmitri Rankoff hated flying.

He hated the very idea of being stuck into a metal tube hurtling through the air at roughly 600 miles an hour. He hated feeling every wind gust, every cloud. He hated the sensation of ascending into the air. But traveling from Belarus to Tokyo, it was the only option that made any sense – especially since they were carrying sensitive cargo.

Pushing his way past the first-class cabin – and silently thanking his benefactors for securing a large aircraft – Rankoff smiled when he saw a figure hunched over in one of the seats in the back. Dirty clothes hung loosely off the figure's shoulders, a black bag covering its face. Rusty chains wrapped around the mask to hold it in place.

The closer Rankoff got to the figure, the more he blanched. The smell of body odor and smoke were heavy; his captive hadn't showered in a while, and the last session with the figure's interrogators ended roughly an hour ago.

Rankoff scratched at his stubble before pulling a knife out of the holster on his hip. His associated weren't having much luck, so – as loathe as Rankoff was to get his hands dirty with such mindless fare – this called for a hands-on approach.

He sat in a seat across from the figure with a sigh. The stench was almost gag-worthy at this point, and Rankoff found himself breathing through his mouth just to get through it. He dug the tip of the blade into his fingertip, shallow, just enough so he could feel it without the knife piercing through his skin.

Rankoff's years in America meant his accent wasn't barely noticeable. "I hope you realize what a pain in the ass you've been."

The figure hunched over a little more, breathing ragged. But if Rankoff didn't know any better, he swore he heard the figure chuckle. Rankoff sucked in his cheeks, focusing on his reflection in the blade. They weren't even a minute in, and already, the captured was testing his patience.

This did not bode well.

"You just couldn't let it go." Rankoff shrugged. "Could you? No. You had to keep pushing. Pushing pushing pushing pushing…" He twirled the knife in his hand, nostrils flaring. Rankoff grew angrier with each word he spat out.

"The two of you…" Rankoff snarled. "You insignificant gnats…"

The figure went still. No chuckling, no breathing. Other than the hum of the aircraft's engines, silence filled the cabin. Holstering the knife again, Rankoff released an exasperated chuckle, his lips curling into a sneer as he stood.

"I guess you're not _so_ insignificant." He paced between rows of seats. "I mean…little bugs don't take down people like Simmons or Bracken. Not that they were the sharpest tools in the shed, but still…power and money used to overcome stupidity."

The figure remained motionless and silent.

"Then again, I guess there's something to be said for persistence." Rankoff plopped himself down into the chair across from the figure again, ignoring the stench. "And luck."

Rankoff watched the figure's shoulders hunch again, another chuckle escaping from under the mask. The drug lord clenched his jaw and growled under his breath, his right hand grabbing the handle of the blade.

"Something you'd like to say?"

The figure sat upright again. Hands were clasped together, fingers interlocking. Three fingers on the figure's left hand were swollen, having been broken in recent days. Rankoff studied the figure closely, disconcerted by how calm its breathing was. They weren't acting like a hostage.

"Why am I still alive?" The figure's voice was but a whisper.

Rankoff's frown deepened. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Excuse me?"

Again, the figure whispered. "Why am I still alive? Why not…why not just kill me?"

Rankoff laughed despite himself. "Because killing you would alert others." The drug lord stood again, hovering over the figure. He hastily grabbed the chain around the figure's neck, unraveling it before tossing the rusty links to the floor.

"I don't need people tailing me. Not the CIA. Not the FBI. Certainly not the goddamn NYPD. I keep you alive, I keep you all bound up like this, no one's the wiser." Rankoff crouched in front of the figure. "I need them to _think_ you're dead."

The figure nodded. "They give up hope…they don't come looking for me."

"_Exactly._"

"Great plan." The figure shrugged. "Just one problem with it."

"And what would that be?"

The figure raised its head, as if to stare right into Rankoff's eyes despite the mask. "You underestimate the people who would be coming for me."

"Underestimate." Rankoff mulled over that word for a few moments before returning to his seat, grabbing the back of the mask, and yanking it off with a growl. The drug lord leaned forward, his face inches from his captive's, close enough to see the weariness and the dread in his eyes.

"I don't think you're in a position to be optimistic, _Richard Castle_." Rankoff sneered. "You honestly expect me to be scared of…what? Three homicide cops? Your daughter? A police captain who doesn't even particularly like you?"

Castle's expression never wavered. He was acting like a man with nothing left to lose – aside from the three years he'd been in Rankoff's custody. He knew the odds, he understood the reality. But damn it all if Castle wasn't holding out for some glimmer of hope.

That annoyed the hell out of Rankoff.

"Face it, Ricky." Rankoff shrugged his shoulders. "If they were going to come find you, they would've done it long ago. As it is, they've all just…moved on."

Something flickered in Castle's eyes, something Rankoff couldn't place. "You don't know Kate."

"That so?" Rankoff _tsk_'ed, sitting back in his seat and folding his arms across his chest, the knife still in its holster. "Then why don't you…enlighten me, Mr. Castle?"

The tease of a smile played across Castle's worn features. He wore a week's worth of stubble, and there was a long scar running down the left side of his face. The bags under Castle's eyes were deep.

"She's stubborn. Headstrong. She sets her mind to something, she won't stop til it's done." Castle swallowed hard, allowing himself a moment of sadness before gathering his bearings again. "You think the fact that it's been three years is gonna stop her? I guess you missed the part where she put away her mother's killer more than a decade after the murder."

"Oh, no, I'm aware of that, Mr. Castle." Rankoff stood again. "How could I miss her arresting my employer?"

Castle nodded. "And here I am as retribution."

"You know…you're not as dumb as you look."

Rankoff kneeled down in front of Castle, pulling the knife out of its holster again and waving it in front of the author's face. "If I'm being honest?" Rankoff shrugged again. "It would surprise me if she _didn't_ come for me. But I don't fear Katherine Beckett, Mr. Castle. I admire her."

He chuckled when Castle frowned in confusion. "Please…if my henchman had half the dedication and ruthlessness that she has, there's no limit to what I could accomplish."

Rankoff grabbed Castle's left wrist, a dark grin on his face. "In fact…I want her to come."

Before Castle could react, Rankoff grabbed the ring finger on the author's left hand, swiping the blade across the finger. He watched the finger fall to the floor, relishing in Castle's scream of pain, ignoring the blood splattering onto his hands and the blade.

Rankoff reached down to pick up the finger, waving it in Castle's face.

"Consider this…her invitation."


	11. Chapter 11

_One week later…_

So far, Japan was a bust.

Not only was Anderson Cross – or Jackson Hunt, or whatever the hell he called himself these days – nowhere to be found, but Kate Beckett and Alexis Castle were as lost as they had been when their plane touched down in Tokyo.

The intel Cross had slipped into the back of _Molten Heat_ only took Kate and Alexis but so far. Ultimately, they were chasing dead ends, much like they had been in the months immediately following Richard Castle's disappearance. They had a name, Dmitri Rankoff, but right now, that's all Rankoff was.

Alexis tried to put a positive spin on things, arguing this trip wasn't a total waste because hey, it's Tokyo, but Kate wondered why she even bothered in the first place. Especially since Tokyo was on the short list of places she and Castle were considering for their honeymoon.

At least Cross had sprung for the two of them to stay in a pretty nice spot, a swanky two-bedroom suite downtown that reminded her of the suite she and Castle had stayed in that time they flew to Los Angeles. The memory wasn't pleasant at first, but Kate eventually grew to embrace the familiarity, considering she was in a country, immersed in a culture, with which she was woefully unfamiliar.

She also had to admit she and Alexis had bonded far more. Kate still felt guilty about not being there for the redhead over the past three years – not nearly as much as she should've been – but at least they seemed to be making up for that.

So even if they didn't find her fiancé, they at least had each other. That was something.

Beckett's ringtone stirred her out of a fitful nap. Sleep had been hard to come by the last few days, not just because of the emotional toll this was taking on Kate, but also because she struggled with the time zone changes.

Groggy, she almost didn't register the sound in time to pick it up, but she sat up and managed to grab her phone to press it to her ear. She sighed, running her free hand through her hair.

"Beckett."

Alexis walked into the room at that moment, furrowing her brow at Kate. The detective closed her eyes again, placing the phone on speaker and setting the device on her bed. "Lanie, hi." Kate and Alexis shared a brief, knowing smile. "I've got you on speaker. Alexis is here with me."

"Good, cause you both are gonna want to hear this."

Their smiles disappeared, Alexis sitting on the edge of the bed. They both stared at the phone, as if they were looking right at the medical examiner who was actually half a world away. "Lanie, what's going on?"

When Lanie spoke again, it was clear she was keeping her voice low. "Javi and Ryan received a package yesterday. No return address, international postage. It…"

"Lanie?"

"It's a finger." Kate's heart skipped a beat, though she couldn't place why. "Left ring finger."

The detective and the redhead stared at each other. "I...I don't get it."

Alexis shot Kate a questioning glance, and the detective responded with a shrug of her shoulders. A random finger being mailed to the NYPD's 12th Precinct was creepy, no doubt, but neither Kate nor Alexis could think of why that would matter to them while they're half a world away.

Unless…

Alexis shook her head. "You don't think…?"

"I'm afraid so." Lanie was careful with her words. "Fingerprint and DNA are both a match. This is Castle's finger."

Kate clasped a hand over her mouth as Alexis closed the distance between them to grab the detective's other hand. Their hands squeezed, Kate giving a teary-eyed glance before another voice over the phone grabbed her attention.

"Good news, though." It was Esposito. "No return address, but the barcode on the box traces all the way to the Japanese embassy in D.C. Ryan's on the phone with authorities there, and they've pledged their full cooperation."

Alexis gave Kate's hand another squeeze. The detective drew in a ragged breath.

"Lanie, the finger…"

"It was severed recently. Probably within the last week or two."

Kate gave Alexis' hand a squeeze, a strange mixture of hope and dread welling up in her chest. This was the first tangible, physical evidence relating to Richard Castle since the video of him dropping money into a dumpster. Everything after that had been little more than speculation, conjecture, and theory.

All of which were great…when Castle was actually around to banter with.

Alexis' voice was tentative, shaky. "Is there any way to tell if he was alive when they cut it off?"

Espo spoke up again. "There was a significant bloodstain in the box."

"Which means he was probably alive when the finger was severed." The words twisted a proverbial knife in Kate's gut even as she said them. She always thought the idea of her fiancé being alive would bring relief, but not like this. If he was still alive, he was in pain.

Or maybe they killed him after slicing off his finger and shipping it to the 12th. But that didn't make any sense. If his captors were going to kill him, why not just kill him? Why make a show of it? No, if anything, that finger was a message.

Kate's frown deepened. "Hey, Lanie? Any prints on the finger itself?"

"You mean aside from his actual fingerprint?"

"Yeah."

Alexis sat up a little straighter. "You think whoever cut off the finger left prints."

Kate shrugged and sighed. "It's a longshot, but…better than nothing." She glanced at the phone again. "Hey, Espo."

"Yo."

"Keep looking into Rankoff. I've got a feeling that if there _is_ a print on that finger, it's his."

"What?"

A knowing smile crept onto Kate's face. "Keep looking into Rankoff. You know, like you have been."

"How did you-?"

"Boy, I told you…"

Kate's smile faded when the line disconnected. The weight of the revelation was finally dawning on her. There really was a chance that Richard Castle was still alive, or at least had been recently. After all those years, she'd been sure he was dead. But that glimmer of hope that kept tugging on her over the weeks and months hadn't been in vain.

Tears welled in the detective's eyes, and she leaned against Alexis when the redhead wrapped her arms around her shoulders. They sat like that for what felt like several minutes, the silence weighing in on them.

"I don't get it."

Kate almost didn't hear Alexis, but the words managed to find their way to her ear. Sitting up a little straighter, she took Alexis' hand into her own. "What?"

"If you're gonna lop off a body part and send it to someone…" The redhead shrugged. "Why a finger? Why _that_ finger?"

The realization nearly doubled Kate over once her eyes focused on the engagement ring. She lifted her hand for Alexis to see, her eyes wide. "It's a message." Kate swallowed hard, her fingers shaking.

"That finger was meant for me."


	12. Chapter 12

**_Sorry for the delay! Lots of stuff going on. I made this chapter a little longer, hope you like it!_**

* * *

><p>For the second time in as many weeks, Anderson Cross was washing blood off of his hands, grimacing at what had already dried under his fingernails. The mess was worth it – even if the building's housekeeping staff would later have questions – because for the first time in three years, he finally felt like he was getting somewhere.<p>

His phone buzzed. Casting a glance at the man tied to a chair in the middle of Cross' bedroom, duct tape over his mouth and cuts along his cheeks and forehead, Cross grabbed the device and stared at the screen.

A text from Alexis.

_Getting food. Kate has a lead._

Cross smirked. He had a lot more than a lead. He was probably moments away from finally tracking down Dmitri Rankoff once and for all. Cross snatched a broken shard of glass from a nearby table, examining the tips already soaked in blood.

"Cut the act." He approached the chair, hearing the other man gasp against the duct tape. "We both know you're almost at your breaking point. So instead of forcing me to cut into you – _again_ – just save me the trouble and tell me about Rankoff."

* * *

><p>Kate Beckett wanted to slam the door when she walked through it; she'd chased dead end after dead end since getting to Japan, and the only thing remotely close to a lead wound up at the 12th. They had proven the finger belonged to Richard Castle, and that her fiancé was alive when it was severed – recently, at that.<p>

Beyond that? Nothing.

Kate felt like she was out of her element. She was a homicide detective, used to playing on _her_ turf, familiar with all the rules and trappings of home. In a foreign country, she was on her own; even the intelligence veteran who coaxed her here wasn't acting in any official capacity.

No authority, no power of subpoena. Nothing. She didn't even have a gun.

A muffled yelp in the adjacent room grabbed Kate's attention. Her frustration disappeared as she grabbed a poker from the fireplace, holding it in both hands as she silently approached the door. She heard a male voice, the words indistinguishable, and she tightened her grip on the stele shaft.

The yelp returned, and Kate was on auto-pilot, pushing her way through the door. "NYPD! Freeze!"

She stopped immediately upon seeing Anderson Cross standing with a shard of glass in his hand, hovering over another man, whom she'd never seen, tied to a chair with duct tape over his mouth. Her brow furrowed and she lowered her arms, paralyzed with confusion.

"Kate." Cross tossed the glass back onto the table before grabbing a white rag and wiping his hands. "Alexis tells me you have a lead."

"Dead end." She glared at the older man. "What the hell is this?"

"I have a lead of my own."

Kate studied the bound man, noting the panic in his eyes, the blood drying into his skin. Shallow cuts throughout his face. His breathing was ragged. Physically, he would be fine, provided he eventually got those cuts taken care of – mentally, he was already a wreck.

"I'm guessing interrogation was never one of your strengths." Kate crossed to the other man, yanking off the duct tape. He cried out at the sensation, before leveling an appreciative gaze her way. She leaned forward. "What's your name?"

"Piotr." The captive man swallowed hard, sweat rolling down his temple until it hit one of his cuts and he cringed with a startled hiss.

Cross threw both the rag and the shard of glass into a trash can. "He's a low-level informant for Rankoff. I believe he knows where Dmitri is…and where we can find Richard Castle."

"I tell you, I know nothing!" Piotr screamed in a panic, his eyes darting between Cross and Kate. He looked at her again, his eyes pleading for her to believe him. "Please. I no see Dmitri for two years. I speak truth!"

Cross snatched the poker from Kate and swung it across Piotr's right knee, ignoring the younger man's howl of pain. "My son has been missing for _three_!"

"Hey!" Kate grabbed Cross by the collar of his white button-down, yanking him backwards and grabbing the poker again. "You gonna let him talk, or do you want me to start swinging?"

Cross shrugged and cracked his knuckles.

Sighing and straightening the hem of her blouse, Kate kneeled before Piotr. "Last time you talked to Rankoff…what did you discuss?"

Piotr's breathing slowly found its rhythm again, though the sting of sweat mingling with the dried blood on his face still elicited the occasional hiss or grunt. His eyes flicked between Cross and Kate, wondering if this was a planned good-cop-bad-cop routine. Judging from the anger in her eyes, he doubted it.

"Shipment." He swallowed. "Heroin. American supplier wanted shipment from Argentina."

Kate nodded. "Did Rankoff ever mention a kidnapping?"

Piotr shook his head.

"Is the name Richard Castle familiar to you?"

Piotr shrugged. "Only when I see in bookstore."

"This is such horseshit." Cross pushed his way past Kate, grabbing Piotr by his shirt and smashing his left fist into the younger man's nose. Kate heard the bone crack before regaining her footing and swinging the poker at Cross' head. He grunted when the heavy metal landed on the top of his head, stumbling back and grabbing his head with both hands.

"Enough!" Kate raised the poker over her head again, her eyes daring Cross to make another move. He gathered his bearings, checking his fingers for blood. Shaking his head, Cross slowly got back to his feet, glaring at Kate.

"You _believe_ this creep?"

"I've been interrogating suspects for over 15 years." She lowered the poker, but kept her grip. "I think I've learned how to spot when someone's lying."

"Well, you're wrong." Cross grabbed Piotr again, ignoring the blood trickling from the captive man's nostrils. "This little sack of crap knows where my son is…where _your fiancé_ is…and I'll beat the life out of him if he won't tell us where he is!"

"And then he'll be dead and we still won't have any answers."

Throwing Piotr to the side, taking the chair with it, Cross approached Kate and flared his nostrils. "Do you have _any_ idea the sorts of things I'm capable of? What I've been doing for the last four decades?"

Kate stood up a little straighter. "You mean aside from abandoning your son?" When Cross' eyes lightened a bit, she pressed on. "Do you know what Castle told me the last time you dropped into our lives? He told me that he kept making the mistake of thinking you were family."

Cross' eyes narrowed, and he took a step forward. "I am _his father_."

Kate rolled her eyes. "One night with Martha doesn't make you a father."

Cross took another step, watching as Kate tightened her grip on the poker and clenched her jaw. Anger and hatred filled her eyes. He snarled under his breath, his hands curling into fists. "You got something to say to me, Detective, you go right ahead and say it."

"Did you ever notice how there was no invitation for you?"

Cross frowned, then shrugged. "Richard wouldn't have known where to send it."

"No." Kate shook her head. "We never even made one for you. We never put you on the list. We never intended for you to be at the wedding. _He_ never intended for you to be there."

"Right, I get it." Cross smirked. "You don't like me. Not that it matters. I don't need Katherine Beckett's approval to find my son."

Anger having finally reached its boiling point, Kate gritted her teeth and socked Cross in the nose with her left fist – far from her best swing, considering she was using her off hand – but she still made solid contact. He stumbled backward, both hands covering his nose.

"Only a few are allowed to use my full name like that." She grabbed Cross by the arm, leading him to the door. "You're not one of them."

Cross yanked himself free of Kate's grasp, straightening his shirt and glaring at her. "You want to find your fiancé or not?"

"Oh, I will." She opened the door, nodding in its direction. "Just not with you. Get out."

His eyes flickering between Piotr and Kate, Cross hesitated. The anger disappeared from his eyes, only to be replaced by confusion. He knew how Kate felt about him, even understood it on some level. But she had to know that the best way to find Castle was with Cross' help, right? She wouldn't be in Japan, wouldn't know about Rankoff, otherwise.

"Kate—"

"_Now._"

With a sigh, Cross' shoulders slumped. He gave Piotr one last look before shaking his head and leaving in silence. Kate waited until she heard the main door to the suite latch shut, tossing the poker into the corner and running her hands through her hair. She felt tears burning in her eyes, and she shut them tightly to shake them off.

So busy re-composing herself, was Kate, that she'd forgotten all about the man tied to the chair.

"Miss…?"

The tentative, accented voice snapped her back into the moment, and Kate crossed the room before slowly hoisting the chair upright again. She gave Piotr an apologetic smile as she undid his bindings. "Sorry." She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.

"This…Castle." He arched his brows. "He is important. Yes?"

She nodded with a sad smile, showing him the ring she still wore on her finger. He gave a sheepish nod, averting his gaze. "I…I am sorry." Piotr made himself look at Kate again, cocking his head to the side; he hadn't caught much of the commotion earlier, but he felt like he'd heard enough. "You think Dmitri took him."

Kate shook her head. "I did. Now I dunno."

"Well…" Piotr shrugged. "I hope he did." He cringed when Kate shot him an angry, confused look, placing his hands in front of him in a defensive posture. "What I mean…I want Dmitri to burn. I want him hurt."

Kate frowned. "He fire you or something?"

"He kill my family." Piotr swallowed. "Then kidnap me." The young man leveled another gaze at Kate, his blue eyes empty. "So if it _was_ him, I hope you put bullet in his head."


	13. Chapter 13

Under normal circumstances, Dmitri Rankoff hated being pulled out of meetings. Especially meetings dealing with his finances. Truth was, funneling money was becoming harder by the day; governments worldwide were slowly but surely getting better at tracking down that sort of crime.

Future Forward made things easier, but with the man who founded the SuperPAC out of the picture, even that avenue was harder to come by. A recent Supreme Court decision bought Rankoff time, but he was quickly discovering there were no secrets in the age of the internet.

But when Rankoff received this particular text – _Rooftop. Now. _– he had to hide a smile with a cough. He faked a coughing fit, eventually standing and asking to be excused under the pretense of getting a sip of water.

The water fountain was to Rnkoff's left as he exited the conference room, but he hung right and disappeared into the stairwell. He had another 13 stories before he would reach the rooftop, and when he was roughly five flights from the roof, he wished he was in better shape.

Rankoff was out of breath by the time he reached the roof, pocketing his phone. He took in the Tokyo skyline as he caught his breath, before letting his eyes scan the roof in search of the man who asked to meet.

Finally, that man came into view, his nose crooked and swollen. Hair and beard matched his white shirt.

"Hello, Rankoff."

"Mr. Hunt." Rankoff sucked in one more deep breath before the two men approached, shaking hands. "You've looked better."

Cross released Rankoff's hand with a sigh, glancing over his shoulder. Just because they were 30 stories up, that didn't necessarily mean they were alone. "Detective Beckett is in Tokyo."

Rankoff smiled, nodding and pacing to Cross' right. "She got my message, then."

Cross shrugged. "She was already here."

Shaking his head, Rankoff couldn't help with laugh. He turned back to the man he called Hunt, squinting as a light breeze blew into his face. "Maybe I _did_ underestimate her."

"I wouldn't worry too much, Dmitri. Out here? No badge. No gun. No jurisdiction. Just her and a college-aged redhead, desperate for closure and coming up empty."

Rankoff smirked. "And willing to trust a ghost of a man."

Cross pointed at his nose. "I wouldn't call it trust."

"She hates you." Dmitri pulled a cigarette from the pack in his pocket, lighting it and taking a slow drag. "Curiosity compels me to ask why, but that's not what I hired you for. I hired you, Mr. Hunt, to keep her occupied. Bringing her to Tokyo while I'm here is not keeping her occupied."

Cross watched the smoke fluttering into the air, resisting the urge to snatch the cigarette out of Rankoff's mouth. "Who sits in Bracken's chair now? Is it Jim?"

"That's your suggestion?" Rankoff flicked his half-smoked cigarette over the edge of the roof. "Point her in the direction of a disgraced Senator's son? Smart play, as far as motive goes."

"Yeah." Cross hissed, shaking his head. "But we both know Jim's smarter than that."

"Tell me you have a plan, Hunt." Rankoff stepped toward Cross, narrowing his eyes and taking in a deep, ragged breath. "You told me you'd take care of it. You told me it was done. A hellbent NYPD cop on the loose in the same city as me doesn't sound done to me. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you weren't holding up your end of the deal."

Cross grabbed Rankoff by his neck, nostrils flaring. "She's not on your scent, Dmitri. She knows your name. She knows about the finger. But that's it. Now…" He released his grip. "If you're done being chesty, you can get back to holding up _your_ end of the bargain."

Rankoff straightened his shirt, glaring at Cross. "The deal goes down tomorrow night."

"And as soon as it's done, my people will swoop in and make the bust."

Rankoff smiled. "While I disappear. And none of you ever hear my name again." He turned on the balls of his feet, content that the conversation was over. He stopped within reach of the access door to the building when he heard Cross clear his throat.

"About our arrangement."

"No." Rankoff approached Cross, nostrils flaring as he grabbed the older man by his collar. "You don't get to make demands. You do what I hired you to do. Nothing more."

Cross grabbed Rankoff by his wrist, pulling the younger man's hand off of him. He squeezed the wrist until his nails dug into Rankoff's skin. "My son." Cross' eyes narrowed. "When this is over, you let him go. You let him live."

Rankoff smiled and tore his wrist out of Cross' grasp. He considered letting his anger get the best of him; it would be easy to push the other man off the edge of the roof, return to his meeting, and be done with the whole ordeal.

But there was something to be said for keeping his composure – and even using Cross' bravado to his advantage. He gave the older man a dark smile, shaking his head.

"Well, seeing as how we're in the business of altering our agreement…" He stepped forward. "Fine. This finishes, I let your son live. But I want a dead cop in return."

Cross straightened, the reality of what Rankoff asked sinking in. He wasn't exactly in a position to turn down the new offer, since he was the one who first suggested altering their arrangement. He blinked, debating with himself the practicality of killing Rankoff right then and there.

Momentary gratification aside, it didn't seem like a smart move.

"Mr. Rankoff," Cross extended his hand. "You have a deal."

And then they shook.


	14. Chapter 14

_The moment that I met you, my life became extraordinary. You taught me to be my best self, to look forward to tomorrow's adventures. And when I was vulnerable, you were strong._

_I love you, Richard Castle. And I wanna live my life in the warmth of your smile and the strength of your embrace. I promise you, I will love you. I will be your friend and your partner in crime and in life._

_Always._

Kate Beckett had kept that small slip of paper in her pocket for the last three years, the one where she jotted down her vows. Vows she had long ago committed to memory and could recite, without hesitation, if asked. No matter how bleak things got, no matter how much hope she had lost over the years, she could never part with these words.

Even now, half a country from home, faced with the first real prospect of her lover's survival in years, she sought comfort in her own words. The paper was faded and tear-stained, but it was the sturdiest thing she'd had since his disappearance.

Alexis wandered in from her bedroom, stopping when she saw the slip of paper in Kate's hand. Her eyes flicked to the floor briefly; she knew what was on that paper. The redhead considered going back to her room, giving the detective privacy, but before she could, Kate looked up.

"Hey, Alexis."

"Hey." Alexis' smile was far from convincing, even as she crossed the room and took a seat next to Kate on the sofa. She tucked her knees under her chin. "I helped Dad write his."

Kate frowned.

"He…his first draft was three pages long." The redhead smirked and shook her head. "He didn't wanna cut anything, but I told him that these were wedding vows, not one of his readings."

Kate laughed and swiped her thumb under her right eye to catch what felt like a stray tear threatening to fall. She stared at the slip of paper again, the words not quite registering in her gaze this time.

"Do you remember what his said?"

Alexis shook her head and frowned. "Last time I saw them was the night before…"

Silence hung between the two women for what felt like ages, before Alexis reached over and took Kate's hand into hers. Alexis cocked her head to the side, a strand of red hair falling in front of her face.

"Kate…what happened here?"

Kate briefly considered playing dumb, but truth was, she hadn't bothered to clean up any of the mess after letting Piotr leave. She was too wired, too emotional following her confrontation with Cross. Part of her thought she'd been unfair to him, letting her emotions get in the way of the one solid link she had to her fiance'.

Then again, she'd long harbored resentment toward that man, even before she ever saw him or heard any of his names. She wasn't about to let all of that go, and if that meant trying to find her fiance' in a foreign country without any help – covert or otherwise – then so be it.

"I came back…" She sighed, laying the slip of paper beside her on the sofa. "I found Cross torturing someone in my bedroom. Shards of glass, blood…he had the guy tied up to a chair and was just…cutting away. Didn't matter that the guy didn't know anything."

Alexis gave a look of shock at first, but it morphed into a confused frown as Kate told the story. She shook her head and brushed back that strand of hair. "So…what'd you do?"

Kate shrugged. "Told him to back off. He kept going, so I, uh…I hit him. And…threw him out."

"Good."

Kate shot Alexis a confused stare, taken aback by just how flippant the redhead sounded.

"Look…" Alexis sighed. "I get that he was a part of getting me out of Paris, but…" She shook her head, feeling Kate give her hand a squeeze. "He's not my grandfather. Just because he's physically responsible for bringing my dad onto this planet, that doesn't mean he…"

The redhead stopped, her voice having gone shaky, taking a deep breath and looking across the room toward the fireplace. She let her thumb trail over the back of Kate's hand, feeling the detective give hers another squeeze.

"I know, Alexis." She gave the redhead a sad smile. "I feel the same way."

Alexis frowned. "You do?"

Kate nodded. "I can't _stand_ what he did to your father." Bitterness seeped into the detective's voice, and the fingers on the hand not clasped in Alexis' started shaking. "Just running off and never contacting him? Never being there for all the…milestones of his life?"

Alexis watched tears building in Kate's eyes, scooting closer to her and tightening her grip on the detective's hand. "How does anyone even _do_ something like that?!" Kate shook her head and sniffled. "How can he be so _goddamn_ flippant about being a parent when…" She stopped, taking a deep breath. "When…"

Alexis nodded. "When there are those who would give anything to have a parent they lost back."

Kate brushed away a couple tears with her free hand, drawing a ragged breath. Solving her mother's murder three years ago brought with it some measure of peace, but it didn't do anything to take away the hurt Johanna's absence left. Kate had naively thought it would, but it didn't.

Before she fell in love with Richard Castle, Kate's mother was everything to her. She constantly dreamed about coming home to find Johanna in the kitchen making dinner…getting a phone call at the precinct for a lunch date…spotting Johanna in the front row after Jim walked her down the aisle.

Time was, every time she woke from one of those dreams, she was in tears and could burrow herself deeper against her lover. Over the past three years, though, she woke up from those dreams alone.

She'd pretty much gotten used to it by now.

That was what made Cross' life so unacceptable to her. People like her lived with the pain of a lost loved one, yet there he was, willingly excluding himself from a family he had helped create. It was one thing to have a parent ripped away from you; it was another entirely to never know that parent existed because they chose to stay away.

"It's not fair!" Kate realized how childish she sounded, but the fact of the matter was, every time she laid eyes on the man who claimed to be Richard Castle's father, it opened old wounds that a man that strange and mysterious had no business opening.

Was it fair to him? Probably not, but no less fair than what Cross did to Martha and Richard.

"Who does he think he is?" She shrugged. "Disappearing all those years and just…swooping in when it's convenient to play hero?"

Kate stood and started pacing back and forth on the other side of the clear coffee table separating her from the sofa. Alexis watched her with equal parts worry and fascination, her brows arched. "So…what now?"

Kate turned to Alexis, the tears in her eyes gone – replaced with the fierce determination on which she had built her career. She stood a little taller, the gold hint in her green eyes more noticeable.

"We find Rick." She crossed to the sofa again, sitting and grabbing Alexis' hand. "We stay here however long it takes until we find him…then we take him home."

"And if Cross shows up again?"

Kate shrugged. "I'll make him wish he hadn't."


	15. Chapter 15

_**Author's Note: Apologies for the length of time between chapters; I'd like to blame work entirely, but I've also been writing a novel and I started another multi-chapter Castle fic (Paths Not Taken - thanks so much for the support!), but I haven't forgotten about this story! Keep reading, and feel free to leave a review.**_

* * *

><p>It had been almost two weeks since Kate Beckett had left for Japan in search for her fiancé, and since the caseload was light, the 12th Precinct was – dare one say – boring for once. Javier Esposito sat at his desk, tapping his pen against the wooden surface, his head resting in the palm of his left hand.<p>

Detective Ryan wouldn't be in for another hour, thanks to a 4 a.m. emergency room trip with his daughter. LT and the others were rummaging about, trying to put off the paperwork that was piling up. Captain Gates was in Orlando for a conference, so the precinct was quiet.

Esposito glanced over his shoulder at Beckett's desk. It hadn't been empty in years, not since she was branded a fugitive in the days leading up to Bracken's arrest. It was strange, seeing her desk barren like that – almost as weird as no longer seeing that elephant statue.

So used to the lull, was Esposito, that when his phone rang, it startled him to the point where he jumped with a grunt. He quickly composed himself, eyes scanning the precinct to make sure no one saw his moment of weakness. Everyone was carrying on about their business – professional or otherwise.

_That's right…_

Esposito picked up the receiver and clutched it to his ear. "Esposito."

"_I want you to listen closely to what I have to say._" A digitized voice grated through the line. "_Do not react._"

Esposito sat up a little straighter in his chair, grabbing his smartphone and tapping a quick text to Ryan. _SOS bro – call ASAP_.

"_Richard Castle is not in Japan. He's being held in a maintenance closet in the subway system two blocks north of the 77__th__ Street stop._"

Esposito studied the other cops in the precinct. No one was paying him any mind. His smartphone buzzed. Ryan had texted him back. _Just parked – walking in now._

"_He is alive. I'm afraid I might not be able to say the same for your lead detective._"

The line went dead before Esposito could respond, and he hung up the phone just as Detective Ryan sprinted into the precinct. He was out of breath, and his hair was unusually unkempt. Under different circumstances, Esposito would crack jokes at his friend and partner, but instead, he just gave Ryan a look of dread.

"What?" Ryan sucked in a deep breath. "Javi, what is it?"

"Grab your gear." Esposito bolted from his chair, determination and anger etched onto his face as he slung his leather jacket over his shoulders. "I'll fill you in on the way."

* * *

><p>"I'm telling you man…" Ryan's voice was barely above a whisper. "We should've called for backup."<p>

"And if we're wrong?" Esposito shook his head, both hands on his sig.

Esposito's heart pounded in his chest as the detectives crept along the subway tunnel; if he had to estimate, Esposito figured they were still about a half block away from the position provided by the voice on the phone.

Ryan had tried to reach Beckett on the way, but her phone went straight to voicemail. They reasoned it was because she was half a world away, either busy or asleep – who knew what time it was over there – but Esposito couldn't shake the dread.

Then again…how many times had Beckett cheated certain death?

"No bro." Esposito's nostrils flared. "We bring Castle back, we do it ourselves."

"And what, call that Beckett's birthday present?"

Esposito smiled. "Be hard to top, wouldn't it?"

The detectives approached a steel door, as unremarkable as the rest of their subterranean surroundings. Esposito stopped, raising his left arm to signal for Ryan to stop as well. He glanced over his shoulder at his partner, nodding once before motioning his head toward the door.

Ryan returned the nod, fishing for his flashlight before carrying it under the hand holding onto his gun. Esposito mimicked the maneuver, taking in a deep breath. The two exchanged one last look, before Esposito kicked the door open with a bang so loud it probably echoed for a few blocks.

Ryan and Esposito spilled into the room, their flashlights the only source of light. "NYPD!" Their voices echoed in harmony, and for the longest while, their flashlights turned up little more than a fuse box and an abandoned table.

Once the echo died, the detectives were met with silence – silence eventually interrupted by a startled breath and the creaking of a chair. Both Ryan and Esposito whirled around to the source of the sound, their flashlights following suit, illuminating a rickety wooden chair…

…and one Richard Castle.

Ryan and Esposito looked at each other, stunned at first before they both broke out into grins. Esposito holstered his gun, approaching the chair as Ryan stood back, adding his light to the festivities.

"Castle," Esposito hissed. "Castle! C'mon, bro, wake up!"

Esposito dropped to his knees, working hastily on the knots on Castle's wrists. His head was slack to the right, eyes closed. His hair was unkempt and his face was a mess with caked-in dirt and dried blood. Esposito saw where his finger was missing when he undid the knots on his wrists before working on his ankles.

Ryan, who to this point had been speechless, reached for his phone. Amazingly enough, he actually had bars down here. _Guess switching providers was worth it after all_… He flicked his thumb over the screen several times before putting the phone to his ear.

Voicemail. Of course.

"Beckett, it's Ryan. Call me as soon as you get this. You're not gonna believe this." He huffed a small laugh. "We found—"

Gunfire tore through the maintenance room, sending both detectives diving for cover. Esposito's ankle tripped over the leg of the chair as he dove, sending the unconscious Castle careening onto his side. The sound of Castle hitting the ground was drowned out by the _patter-patter-patter_ of automatic gunfire, and through the din, Esposito could see two men dressed head to toe in black with rifles, firing with abandon.

"Javi!"

"I'm good, bro!" Esposito was careful with his words, trying not to let the gunfire drown him out. "There's two of 'em!"

"I see that!" Ryan began returning fire, taking cover under a table Esposito hadn't even seen when they entered the room. Ryan managed to hit one of the men in the leg, and he dropped with a howl of pain. Blood oozed from his knee as his rifle clacked onto the ground. Another shot from Ryan hit the man in the forehead.

After allowing himself a moment to be impressed, Esposito glanced over his shoulder at Castle, who was still unconscious. Esposito positioned his body to act as a shield for Castle, pulling his sig from his holster again and aiming a shot for the second man's shoulder.

The bullet grazed the man – _definitely not a sniper rifle_ – and Esposito ducked as much as he could as a hail of bullets flew in his direction. Three of them whizzed by his ear, and for a brief moment, Esposito was back in the deserts of Iraq. He clenched his jaw, staring at the second gunman.

He snarled under his breath, nostrils flaring. Steadying his gun with his free hand, Esposito pointed his sig at the second gunman's forehead and pulled the trigger.

The man dropped, his fate the same as his partner's.

Ryan and Esposito stuck to their positions for several moments – both to catch their respective breaths and to ensure there weren't more reinforcements on the way. When the droll _whoosh_ of the subway train racing by came and went, the detective stumbled back to their feet, holstering their weapons and staring at each other.

"Looks like you still got it, Javi."

"Like ridin' a bike, bro."

They turned to the chair toppled onto its side, taking care when they eased it back onto its legs. Ryan finished undoing the cloth binding Castle's wrists together, and Esposito hoisted the writer's left arm over his shoulder. Ryan did the same with Castle's left arm.

The writer stirred once he was lifted from the chair, his eyes fluttering open briefly.

"Hey, man." Ryan cast a sideways grin. "Long time no see."

Castle grunted, his head swaying back and forth. He blinked and swallowed hard, looking from Ryan to Esposito. "What…?"

"C'mon, bro. Let's get you home."


	16. Chapter 16

By the time Kate Beckett woke up, she noticed five missed calls – four from Detective Esposito and one from Detective Ryan. Ryan was the only one to leave a message. Flooded with worry, given how many times they had tried to contact her, Kate pressed the device to her ear, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes before punching in her voicemail passcode.

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard Ryan's hushed but harried voice.

_Beckett, it's Ryan. Call me as soon as you get this. You're not gonna believe this…we found—_

Gunfire interrupted Detective Ryan, and the line went dead soon after. Kate stared at her phone, mouth agape, starting to shake. What had they found? _Who_ had they found? Were they even still alive? Those sounded like automatic weapons that had opened fire that way.

Swallowing back the confusion and dread, Kate sat up and pulled the covers aside. A couple swipes of her thumb and the smartphone was pressed to her ear again. She couldn't contain the sigh of relief when Ryan picked up in the middle of the second ring.

"Ryan."

"Kevin!" Kate stood, a jolt of adrenaline coursing through her. One of her partners was still alive at least.

"What time is it over there?"

"You know…" Kate ran her shaky fingers through her hair. "I don't even know. I just…some of the best sleep I've had since I've been here."

"Well, you're gonna sleep a whole lot better now."

Kate frowned at the pause.

"We found him, Kate. We got him."

It took a few moments for Kate to gather her bearings, to convince herself that she had actually heard what she had just heard. She looked toward the bed, pinching herself with her free hand, because she _had_ to be dreaming.

Right?

"You mean…"

"Yep." She could practically hear the smile on Ryan's face. "Castle's back."

* * *

><p>Richard Castle's hand itched. He wanted desperately to scratch it, but it happened to be where the IV was, so he couldn't do anything with it. The itch was constant, nagging. He was so preoccupied with the itch that he didn't even notice the fluids being pumped into him.<p>

Dehydration was the main concern, but the doctors had also put him on a mix of painkillers and a drug to fight against infection. How the area around his missing finger hadn't yet gotten infected was beyond him. – truth be told, he didn't even know how or when he had wound up in New York.

He thought he was still in Japan.

Castle glanced to his right and saw Detective Esposito sitting in the chair, arms crossed over his chest as he was sound asleep. Castle swallowed, turning to his left, surprised to find Victoria Gates standing in the doorway.

"Captain." His voice was rough, gravely, barely above a whisper.

"Mr. Castle." There was a warmth to Gates' voice he didn't think he had ever hear – at least, not directed at him. She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. Before the door latched, Castle noticed a uniformed officer – _LT?_ – standing guard.

"I must say…" Gates stood at Castle's bedside. "This was not the outcome I would've expected."

He frowned in confusion and pain. The meds were starting to wear off.

"As I'm sure you expect, there are a lot of questions that need to be answered. But…" The captain sighed and shook her head. "Those questions can wait until you're closer to your normal self."

He tried to smile, but found his muscles uncooperative. "I appreciate that, sir."

Silence fell between Castle and Gates, disturbed only by the beeping of one of the many machines Castle was hooked up to and Esposito's light snoring. Castle stared at his hands, trying his hardest not to look at his missing finger.

"Sir…" His tired eyes lifted. "I…where's Kate?"

"Japan." Gates grabbed onto the siderail. "She got a tip that you were there, so she and Alexis went to go find you. Ryan's calling her to give her the news now."

Castle nodded and swallowed. "And my mother?"

Before Gates could answer, Ryan came back into the room, giving Castle a surprised smile. "You're awake." He turned to Gates. "Beckett and Alexis are trying to get the earliest flight back stateside they can."

This time, Castle did smile…though it turned into a grimace once the pain registered.

* * *

><p>Kate burst through the door to Alexis' room with tears in her eyes, and before the redhead could wipe the sleep out of her eyes, the detective threw her arms around her shoulders with a sob. Groggy and confused, Alexis returned the hug, before slowly pulling herself out of Kate's arms and looking at her with arched brows.<p>

"Kate…?"

"Pack your stuff." Kate sniffled and wiped at her eyes, but she was smiling. Her smile was brighter than Alexis had seen in years, and though the confusion was still etched onto her pale face, the redhead couldn't help but grin herself.

"We're going home, Alexis."

"But…" Alexis shook her head. "Dad…"

"They found him!"

The words left Alexis speechless, clutching at her bed sheets. She stared at Beckett, eyes wide, shaking her head ever so slightly as the words slowly sank in for her. Her brow furrowed, and Alexis pulled her legs out from under the covers. "But…the intel…"

Kate shook her head, huffing with a smile as more tears fell. "They found him in New York. Ryan and Espo…they got him!"

The two women exchanged another tight, lengthy hug, Kate crying on Alexis' shoulder as the redhead closed her eyes and let herself cry a little, too. Alexis leaned in closer to Kate, giving her a tight squeeze; they'd grown infinitely closer in recent weeks, and she was glad that she would be able to call Kate stepmom after all.

Whatever reservation she'd had years before…they were all gone.

Alexis broke the hug, grabbing Kate's shoulders. "He-he's okay?"

Kate swallowed and nodded, her eyes watery. "He's dehydrated, and they want to make sure his hand doesn't get infected, but yeah…little time and rest, he should be back to his old self."

Alexis leapt off the bed, grabbing her suitcase tucked away in the corner. She flopped it onto the bed, unzipping it and grabbing her clothes from the closet, one by one placing everything into the suitcase.

She stopped, a puzzled look on her face.

Kate frowned. "What's wrong?"

"What do I say?" Alexis shrugged. "When we see him again for the first time?"

"Give him a hug." Kate sighed. "Tell him you love him and that you missed him."

_That's what I'm gonna do…_

Kate stood and gave Alexis' shoulder a squeeze, smiling at the redhead. "Finish packing. I'll book us a flight."

No sooner did Kate turn to leave Alexis' room, she halted with a gasp. Her eyes widened and her hands shot up to either side of her. A tall, broad figure stood in Alexis' doorway, pointing the barrel of a gun right at Kate's chest.

The detective felt her breath leaving her body.

"Oh, good…you're still here."

"Cross…"


	17. Chapter 17

_**Author's Note: This chapter's a little shorter than most, but I'm trying to get things kickstarted before they get stagnant. Hope you're enjoying the ride!**_

* * *

><p>Anderson Cross cocked the gun clutched in his right hand, taking methodical, purposeful steps into Alexis' bedroom. His hand was steady, the sneer on his aging features pronounced by the dim lighting in the room.<p>

Alexis grabbed Kate's arm, giving her a sideways glance and silently hoping that the detective had a plan. But Kate was caught off-guard, surprise all over her green eyes as she took a step back for each step Cross took, until her legs backed into the bed.

"I was hoping you hadn't left yet." Cross sneered. "We have unfinished business, Detective Beckett."

"Why would we leave?" Kate lied. "We haven't found Castle yet."

"Yeah…" Cross' eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. "About that…"

Kate watched the gun flick ever so slightly to her right, turning to grab Alexis by the shoulders and hurl them both onto the mattress just before the ear-shattering pop of a gunshot rang out in the small room. Both women sank into the mattress with a grunt as the bullet dug into the wall, flecks of drywall falling to the floor.

"Stay down!"

Taking an extra split-second to make sure Alexis wasn't hit – Kate was familiar enough with the physical sensation of being shot to know she hadn't been hit – the detective launched back to her feet, thankful Cross wasn't carrying an automatic weapon. She lunged at the man, swatting at his right arm, pulling it down.

Cross kept his grip on the weapon as he and Kate tumbled along the floor. The momentum worked to Cross' advantage, as he wound up on top of Kate, his free hand pinning her down by her left shoulder and pressing the barrel of his gun against her forehead. She grunted at the cold steel digging into her skin, her fingers clutching at his wrist.

"How about _you_ stay down?" Cross took in a deep breath, releasing it with a growl. "No sense in making this any harder than it has to be."

"Says the man threatening to kill a cop."

"I'm just honoring my part of the bargain." Cross tightened his grip on the gun. "Rankoff promised me I'd get my son back. But he wanted you in return."

Kate dug her nails into Cross' wrist, her legs kicking out in an effort to get him off of his equilibrium, trying to turn his weight advantage into a weakness. Her jaw clenched and her left hand shot up to grab at the collar of his shirt.

"And what makes you think Rankoff's telling the truth?"

"He's not." Cross cocked his gun again. "Which is why there are two bullets left in this gun. One for you." The hand that had been on Kate's shoulder moved to her neck. "One for him."

Before Kate could react, she saw the lamp that had been bedside smash into the back of Cross' head. He grunted and stumbled off of Kate, holding his free hand against the back of his bleeding head before Alexis grabbed him and smashed him face-first into the hardwood floor.

Once Cross lost his grip on the weapon, Alexis forced his arms behind his back and tied his wrists together using the power cord attached to the lamp. She huffed and helped Kate back to her feet.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." Kate glared at Cross before approaching him. "I've survived much, _much_ worse."

Sure, she meant her shooting years before, the faded mark in the center of her chest a constant reminder of just how tough she really was. But it was more than that for Kate; she had survived her mother's murder, she and Castle had endured just about everything that had been thrown their way over the years.

And now, they had apparently survived his three-year disappearance. Kate was just days – if not hours – from being reunited with her fiancé, and nothing, not even his mysterious, absentee, poor excuse for a father, was going to keep her from running into Castle's arms again.

Kate was going to get her life back. Anderson Cross be damned.

"I shouldn't be surprised that you turned on us." Kate kneeled in front of Cross, secretly taking pleasure in seeing the blood dripping off the back of his head. His eyes were drooping, his body lurching forward. He'd probably lose consciousness soon.

Kate smiled at Alexis. "Funny thing is, you did this for nothing."

Cross' eyes flicked up to the detective, his brow furrowing.

"He's not in Japan." Kate shrugged, standing. "But he _is_ alive. And he's safe. My people found him in New York. So either you fed us bad intel, or your Russian friend wasn't being entirely honest with you. I don't know which one it is, but I don't care."

Kate wandered in a circle around Cross, grabbing the back of his collar to make sure he didn't fall forward. She didn't want him blacking out on her just yet. His eyes widened with a gasp, and Kate bent down to grab his gun.

"You wanna know what I _do _care about?" She pondered the weapon in her hand. "Getting my fiancé back. Getting my life back." She glanced at Alexis. "_Our_ life back."

The detective stood in front of Cross again, pressing the weapon to his forehead when he looked up at her. Kate heard Alexis gasp, and she gave the redhead a knowing look. Only when Alexis nodded did Kate turn her attention back to Cross.

"Oh, one more thing…" Kate dug the metal harder against Cross' skin. "I care about never seeing you again. You hear me? _Never_. You stay out of our lives. You don't contact us. You don't follow us. You don't come at us out of the blue. Got it?"

Cross stayed silent, never breaking his gaze.

"_Got it?!_"

Cross blinked. "But…my son…"

Kate flipped the gun in her hand before smashing the butt of the weapon across the older man's cheek. He grunted as blood started running down his left cheek. "He is _not_ your son!"

Alexis joined Kate, her hand on the detective's shoulder. "Kate…"

Kate took in a deep breath, anger burning in her eyes, even as she tossed the weapon onto the bed. "I don't care who you are or what you're capable of. I ever see you again, it will be the last time we cross paths."

Kate's phone pinged, and she glanced at the display with a smirk before pocketing the device again. "One more time, Cross…do you understand me?"

Cross blinked and swallowed, teetering on the edge of consciousness. "Yes…"

"Good." Kate turned to Alexis, giving her a quick hug. "Come on. We've got a plane to catch."


	18. Chapter 18

The hours since Kate and Alexis left Tokyo en route for New York were a blur. Even the three connections along the way seemed to blend together. The detective was so overwhelmed with the realization that her long-lost fiancé had been found – _alive_ – that she could barely muster the intellectual fortitude for anything else.

More than once, she fought the urge to burst into tears. Not out of sadness, but of relief…the release of three years' worth of frustration and heartache and dead ends. Kate Beckett would have her breakdown, but not in the middle of a crowded airport.

As soon as the plane touched down at JFK, Kate grabbed Alexis' hand and took a deep breath. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that she could hear it, and she was on auto-pilot as they retrieved their bags and hailed a cab.

Adrenaline and exhaustion fought a brutal tug of war, before Kate decided the hospital was the first place she wanted to go. After three years, she didn't want to waste another minute without seeing Castle.

Kate couldn't help but smile when she entered the waiting room and saw Captain Gates and the boys. Ryan and Esposito were asleep, sitting next to each other, their arms folded and their heads resting against each other. Alexis pulled out her phone and snapped a picture, a mischievous grin on her face.

Kate sighed and approached Captain Gates, who was sitting with a magazine open in her lap. The detective cleared her throat, her hands in the back pockets of her jeans.

"Sir…?" Kate cringed when her voice cracked.

Gates looked up, removing her glasses before tossing the magazine aside and standing to give Kate a hug. It was a little awkward, given that she'd never shown that type of affection before, but given the circumstances, Kate thought it appropriate.

"Welcome home, Detective." Gates gave Kate's shoulder a squeeze.

"Thank you, sir." Her eyes darted to the double doors leading into the wing of the hospital where her fiancé's room was. "How is he?"

"Resting. Has been since we told him you were coming home."

Kate and Alexis shared a smile before the redhead cocked her head to the side. "Any memory loss?"

"Nothing major." Gates shrugged. "He was disoriented for a while, not quite sure where he was, but he knows who he is, knows who we are."

Another wave of relief came over Kate. At least she wouldn't have to worry about whether the man she loved would recognize her the first time he saw her again.

"Detective…" Gates' eyes narrowed. "What happened in Japan?"

"If you don't mind, sir, can that wait?" Kate bit her lower lip. "I'll tell you everything, just…not right now, okay?"

When Gates nodded, Kate gave her a grateful smile before crossing the waiting room to where Ryan and Esposito were sleeping. She grinned and kicked at their feet until they stirred and eventually awoke, jolting with a start once they realized they had been leaned up against each other.

"Not cool, bro…"

"Stay on your side…"

"Boys." Kate's eyebrows arched. "Behave."

The voice registered for the detectives, and they bolted upright with bright smiles – probably the brightest any of them had smiled in weeks. Kate wrapped them both into the same tight, grateful hug, letting her eyes fall shut.

"Thank you." Her voice cracked again, damn it all. "Thank you so much…"

They eventually broke the hug, and Esposito gave Kate's shoulder a squeeze. "Lanie's stuck in traffic, but she's on her way."

She smiled and turned to Alexis. "If they're allowing visitors, go ahead."

Alexis frowned. "But Kate—"

"I need to call my dad first."

* * *

><p>Alexis shared a smile with the tall police officer guarding her father's room – she thought his name was LT or something like that – before she carefully opened the door and stepped inside. He wasn't hooked to as many machines as she thought he would be, but the bandage on his left hand immediately caught her eye and she swallowed back the lump in her throat.<p>

"Dad…?"

He turned, the bags heavy under his eyes – though they brightened considerably once they focused in on the redhead standing in front of the door. He swallowed, hard, and smiled as best he could despite the pain.

"Alexis?"

"Dad!" She crossed the distance to the bed and wrapped her father in a careful hug, trying not to add to whatever pain he might've been feeling. She felt his right arm cross over her back, his cheek pressed against hers. She gently squeezed, sniffling. "I missed you…"

"I missed you too, pumpkin." His voice was gravely, but better than before. They broke the hug and he gave a gentle smile, though his eyes were glassy. "I hear you went to rescue me."

"Yeah." Alexis stared at her father's hand, not wanting him to see what was in her eyes. Running into her grandfather had been the impetus for the entire ordeal, and to think that he had betrayed her and Kate…

"Too bad Ryan and Espo beat you to it."

Alexis giggled and wiped at her eyes. "Yeah, well…we were fed bad intel."

Before Castle could respond to that, the door opened again. He looked up, and his face lit up in a way it hadn't in a long, long time. He swallowed again, sitting up and trying not to cringe too visibly when the pain shot up his arm.

"Rick…"

Alexis stepped out of the way just in time for Kate to approach Castle's bed, her hand grabbing onto either side of his face as they kissed. It was the long, slow kiss of a couple who had been apart for far too long, and Kate deepened the kiss even more when Castle wrapped an arm around her waist.

They were both crying by the time Kate broke the kiss, their breathing ragged. His heart monitor started beeping, but they both ignored it. Kate's fingers trailed along his jawline, and even as more tears fell, she gave him one of those big, toothy smiles he loved.

"Hi."

"Hi…"

For a brief moment, Castle forgot about the pain he was in. All he cared about was seeing the love of his life again, getting lost in her eyes, relishing in the feel of her hand against him, the taste of her lips lingering on his.

"No offense to the boys." A boyish grin crept onto the writer's face. "But I wish you'd have been the one to save me."

She huffed a laugh and wiped at her eyes, shaking her head. "But you're safe now." She slid her non-injured hand into hers, their fingers interlocking. "And you're here. That's all that matters."

Castle's eyes lifted to meet Alexis'. "Pumpkin, could you give us a moment?"

Despite the confusion and concern on her face, Alexis nodded and left the room, careful to shut the door behind her. Castle swallowed again and looked up at his fiancée, giving her hand a squeeze.

"There's something you need to know." He cleared his throat. "About my disappearance."

Brushing strands of hair behind her ear, Kate nodded and took the seat next to Castle's bed, her hand still latched onto his. She didn't care that their palms were getting sweaty; after three years, she wasn't about to let go.

"What is it?"

"I know who took me." His jaw clenched. "It was my father."


	19. Chapter 19

"Rick…" Kate Beckett just shook her head. "Are you _sure_?"

Richard Castle swallowed, sitting up in his hospital bed, ignoring the twinge of pain running up his left side. Physically, he was as exhausted as ever, but having seen his daughter and his fiancée filled the writer with enough of an emotional boost that he knew sleep was impossible.

He also knew he remembered almost everything from the past three years, right down to every last seemingly insignificant detail.

"As sure as I was the day I asked you to marry me."

Kate's heart swelled at Castle's words, and she was reminded yet again just how much power his words had over her, even before they met, even before she ever entertained the notion of a future with him. Before they had each other, before they had their _Always_, she had his words.

She curled her hand into his, brushing strands of hair out of her face before taking a seat in the chair by Castle's bed. Her mind replayed the last few weeks, trying to piece everything together now that she knew who kidnapped him on their wedding day.

"It's okay if you don't wanna tell me right away." Kate squeezed her fiancé's hand. "If you need time—"

"No." He raised Kate's hand to his face, kissing the back of it. "No more time."

* * *

><p><em>Three years ago…<em>

_By the time Castle regained consciousness, he found himself in an abandoned warehouse. The place smelled of manure, blood, and sweat, and he coughed so violently when he came to that he nearly vomited. On his knees, Castle knew he was still wearing his tuxedo, but he also knew he was blindfolded._

_The blindfold was yanked off, though, and Castle blinked rapidly to shield himself from the onslaught of light. His vision eventually cleared, though he still had to squint. A stack of clothes landed in front of him._

"_Change."  
><em>

_The voice sounded familiar, but Castle couldn't find a face to go with it. His hands weren't tied behind his back, so he shielded his vision with his left forearm. He swallowed back the bile rising in his throat._

_He flinched when he heard a gun cocking._

"_Change!"_

_His fingers shaking so badly, Castle could barely work the buttons on his shirt, he eventually changed into the clothes in front of him. A non-descript shirt and jeans with a brown coat. A hand from behind grabbed Castle by the collar and dragged him along the cold, muddy ground, before tossing him into the back of a van._

_The door slammed shut and the sound echoed throughout the warehouse. The engine protested but roared to life, and the next thing Castle knew, the van was veering onto the highway, swaying and rocking violently._

_The van screeched to a stop and the doors burst open. The sunlight assaulted Castle's face and he feared momentary blindness. Two men wearing black ski masks and carrying semiautomatic rifles grabbed Castle and pushed him out of the van._

_He stumbled to his knees, hearing the men raise their weapons._

"_Put your hands behind your head." The voice had returned._

_Swallowing, Castle did as told, his fingers interlocking against his dark hair. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer – not to any deity, but to his beloved Kate Beckett and the rest of his friends at the Twelfth, because if anyone could get him out of this, it would be them._

_Castle heard footsteps approach, then stop in front of him. He opened his eyes and gasped, nearly falling forward once his eyes registered the man standing in front of him._

"_Dad?"_

"_Richard." Sometimes he was Jackson Hunt. Others, he was Anderson Cross. Whatever his name this time, his voice was cold, detached. Were it not for the physical recognition, Castle probably wouldn't have known he was facing his father._

"_What…?" Castle shook his head, his shoulders hunched. "What's going on?"_

_A black duffel bag fell in front of Castle. "To your left is an alleyway. There's ten thousand dollars in that duffel bag. You're going to throw that bag into the dumpster in the alley."_

_Castle frowned. "Why?"_

_As if on cue, one of the semiautomatics pressed into the back of his head. Castle flinched, and his eyes met his father's. There was nothing in the older man's gaze._

"_You'll do it. Or by the time that beautiful bride of yours finds you, all she'll find is your brain splattered against the pavement."_

_Anger flashed in Castle's eyes, but a rare moment of self-restraint kept it at bay. He knew Kate well enough to know that she would eventually find him, and that she would eventually deal with the man who called himself Castle's father, and he wanted to be alive when that happened._

_Moving slowly, in case the two men behind him had itchy trigger fingers, Castle grabbed the duffel bag and rose to his feet. His knees were wobbly, but they didn't betray him as he took his first steps, carefully wandering through the alleyway._

_By the time he reached the dumpster, Castle glanced over his shoulder. The weapons were still trained on him. He let his eyes float upward briefly, hoping to find some sort of camera. He didn't see one, but if there was one, maybe it would find its way to the precinct. Either Ryan or Tory would look at it, and they'd see him._

_Then again, that was probably the plan, because even as he tossed the bag into the dumpster, Castle knew it would look bad for him. But it wasn't the first time he'd been framed in a case his friends were investigating._

_Kate believed in him then; surely, she'd believe in him now._

_Returning to his father, and the two men with the rifles, Castle nodded. "It's done."_

"_Good." His father waved the other two men off. "Now…get back in the van. There's someone very anxious to meet you."_

* * *

><p>Tears burned the edges of Kate's eyes as she listened to Castle tell the story. She felt equal parts vindicated and foolish – vindicated in the faith she'd held in him, and foolish for those moments when she lost that faith.<p>

If nothing else, it appeared Esposito would owe Castle an apology.

"He wanted to throw us off the scent." Kate stared at their joined hands. "He wanted us to think you bailed on purpose."

Castle was silent, which worried Kate. She was always worried when he wasn't talking, because it was so unlike him. He was always saying _something_ – he was always finding another use for his words, even when his fingers weren't a blur on a keyboard.

She looked up at her fiancé, noting the darkness creeping into his eyes.

"Rick…" She squeezed his hand to get him to look at her. "It's okay if you wanna…"

"No." He swallowed. "I want to say this. But…" His eyes wandered toward the door, where he was sure Alexis was still waiting on the other side. "Kate, where's my mother?"

Giving Castle's hand a squeeze, and scared beyond all hell because she had dreaded the moment he would ask that, Kate rose and opened the door to Castle's room again, motioning for Alexis to join them.

Castle frowned when she saw Alexis again, and the redhead gave Kate a questioning look. The detective gave a sad smile and returned to her seat, taking his hand into hers again. "He, um...he asked about Martha."

Alexis deflated and sat on the other side of Castle's bed, taking his other hand, careful not to mess with the IV needle stuck into the back of it. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she had to force herself to look at her father. "Dad…"

Castle sat up again, his blue eyes filled with worry.

"Gram is dead." She gently squeezed her father's hand. "Six months ago. She had cancer."

Castle's eyes danced from his daughter to his fiancée, and Kate nodded while cradling his hand in both of hers. All three of them were on the verge of tears now, and Castle shook his head, closing his eyes and sucking in a deep breath.

"Well…" His voice was hoarse. "It's been three years. I'd have been a fool to think everything was exactly the same…"

"Rick…"

He gave Kate a sad smile, a couple tears falling down his face. She reached out to brush them aside with her thumb, before leaning in and placing a soft kiss to his lips. Alexis cried, her thumb forming small circles on Castle's other hand.

Castle cleared his throat when the kiss broke. "When I get out of here…will you take me to see her?"

Kate nodded, her forehead pressed against his. "We buried her in the same cemetery as my mom. Their plots actually aren't that far apart."

Castle nodded, kissing Kate's forehead. "There's still so much I have to tell you, Kate." He swallowed and released a ragged breath. "But…can Alexis and I have a moment?"

"Of course." Kate kissed Castle again, trying to pour the past three years of heartache and frustration into this one simple gesture, her hands cradling his face. She stood and gave Alexis a sad smile before turning to leave the room. She made it to the door before her fiancé's voice stopped her again.

"Kate." He sniffled. "I love you."

Her heart swelled in a way she thought she'd never feel again. "I love you too."


	20. Chapter 20

_**Author's Note: Complete flashback in this chapter. I'm having a lot of fun filling in the three-year blank.**_

* * *

><p><em>Three years ago...<em>

_Having been stuck in the back of the van, and the driver apparently trying out for a ride in NASCAR, Richard Castle had lost consciousness after he was jostled around and he'd banged his head against the side of the van. By the time he came to, the writer was tied to a chair, his wrists bound together and his ankles taped to the legs of the chair._

_Another abandoned warehouse. Or maybe it was the same one as earlier. Castle couldn't tell, especially since he had to keep blinking to keep the blood oozing from his forehead from falling into his eyes._

_So not only had his father kidnapped him – on his wedding day, no less – he was pulling out every stereotype along the way. Castle's first novel had more twists than this._

"_Oh, good, you're awake." Castle could hear his father, but he couldn't see him. There was a figure standing in front of him, shrouded in darkness, but his father's voice was coming from behind. "Was beginning to think you'd sleep the day away, like a frat boy nursing a hangover."_

_Castle tried to ignore the pounding in his head – concussion, not hangover – squinting in the vain hope of making out the captor standing in front of him. He swallowed, cringing when the hint of copper hit his tongue._

_Castle felt a warm trickle run from his nostril. Great, he had a bloody nose, too._

"_You wanted him, Mr. Rankoff." Castle's father grabbed him by the back of his collar, tugging on it so hard Castle's head jerked painfully upright. The writer grit his teeth to bite back the growl, squeezing his eyes shut. "Here he is."_

"_Richard Castle." The shadow finally spoke. The shadow was Russian. "Do you know why you're here?"_

"_Because my father couldn't wait until the preacher asked if there were any objections."_

_To Castle's surprise, the shadow laughed. He hadn't cracked the joke for his captor's benefit; as always, it had been Castle's coping mechanism. The way for him to deal with the dire reality in front of him – a reality made all the more dire by the fact that he had no idea if his fiancée was close to finding him._

_Hell, for all Castle knew, something had happened to her, too._

_He tried to keep that thought at bay, swallowing again and trying not to gag at the idea of tasting his own blood. He spat, staring up at the shadow through hooded eyes. "I don't know. You tell me. What's the matter? Can't find moose and squirrel?"_

"_Come on, Mr. Castle." The shadow stepped forward, emerging into what little light was in the warehouse. The man looked far younger than Castle expected – like he was just on the north side of thirty. "Surely, you of all people can appreciate a good mystery."_

"_Not when _I'm_ the mystery."_

"_Fair enough." The man Castle's father called Rankoff shrugged. "My name is Dmitri Rankoff. You've never heard of me, but you and your cop bitch have done a fine job of tearing down my operation over the past several months."_

_Castle's father had approached and Castle looked up in confusion – before spitting blood onto his father's shoe. The writer expected a retaliatory blow, but none came._

"_You know…I didn't think much of it when Detective Beckett killed Dick Coonan years back." Even as Rankoff was being so matter-of-fact, Castle flinched in recognition. If this dated all the way back to Coonan, then… "But then you got Maddox. Well, Maddox's own stupidity got Maddox, but it still counts."_

_Castle swallowed back his dread, his hands starting to shake. The pounding in his head was getting worse, and the writer was starting to feel sick to his stomach. Yep, he definitely had a concussion._

"_But then Vulcan Simmons…boy, I never thought anyone would bring him down." Rankoff waved his hand in front of his face. "I mean, I know _you _didn't off Simmons, but you and your lady were close enough that it still counts. And then…" Rankoff smirked and shook his head, disappearing into the darkness before emerging with a TV on one of those wheely stands like Castle remembered from school._

_Rankoff smiled knowingly, turning on the TV and pressing another button on the device._

_Castle stared at the screen, just in time to see CNN's coverage of a press conference. But it wasn't just any regular press conference._

_The voice on the TV didn't immediately register, but Castle recognized the man sitting in front of an ornate desk, surrounded by cameras and microphones. He recognized the blue shirt, the red tie. The chryon along the bottom of the screen read "LIVE: Washington DC."_

_Then a woman weaved her way through the crowd, silencing the man and calling the attention of all the cameras on her. Recognition again floored Castle, and he audibly gasped with a shake of his head. His heartbeat quickened, and the nausea in his gut intensified._

"_I found the tape."_

_No._

"_I found it."_

_Oh, no…_

"_It's over."_

_Castle shook his head._

"_Senator Bracken, you are under arrest for conspiracy, fraud…"_

_No. No… Castle squeezed his eyes closed, unable to watch the next part, both because he had already lived the moment, and because he now understood, with perfect clarity, what was happening to him._

"…_and the murder of my mother, Johanna Beckett."_

_Castle opened his eyes again, in time to see the live video footage of his lover leading William Bracken away in handcuffs, the national media in hot pursuit, desperately hoping for a soundbite, an explanation…something._

_Then the screen went black. Rankoff stepped in front of the television._

"_You know…I always knew my meal ticket would clock out on me." Rankoff started pacing around Castle's chair. "But I figured it'd be something…I don't know, bigger. An FBI probe. A presidential scandal. Political assassination. I never imagined he'd be brought down by a lowly homicide detective and her pet writer."_

"_That _lowly _homicide detective…" Castle swallowed. "…will be your worst nightmare."_

_Rankoff laughed. "Beckett is the least of my concerns."_

_Castle's brows arched. He was still scared. He was still physically compromised. But when Kate entered his mind, it filled him with the sort of bravery he once thought he never possessed. But the last six years had taught him a lot about himself – mostly that he was capable of far more than he ever thought, that his love for Kate gave him strength he long thought impossible._

"_You had ties to the man who murdered her mother. And you kidnapped the man she was hours away from marrying." Castle shook his head. "Why not just kill me? If nothing else, it would guarantee that she'd put the bullet between your eyes herself."_

"_I'm not going to kill you, Mr. Castle." Rankoff kneeled in front of the chair. "In point of fact, there will be nothing that points her in my direction. As far as your lover will know, you fled. Ran away, arranged to have it look like a kidnapping, and then…with enough time…she'll think you're dead and just…move on."_

"_You don't know Beckett."_

"_And you do?" Rankoff laughed and stood again. "You follow her around for four years like this lost puppy, hoping for just the tiniest sniff of her rear end." Rankoff laughed again when he saw Castle struggling against his bindings. "She _finally _gives in, convinces herself that you're worth a damn, all while you profit off of her with those _stupid_ books.  
><em>

"_Seriously, Mr. Castle. Nikki Heat? I can see why your father never bothered with you."_

_Rankoff disappeared into the shadows again, and Castle's father followed him. The older man stopped just before disappearing into the darkness, turning back to his son. Their eyes met, and Castle thought, for a moment, that he saw something akin to regret in his father's eyes. Then again, maybe the hallucinations were starting._

"_Dad…"_

"_You have questions. I know." The older man shrugged. "But what can I say, Richard? I love a good mystery too."_

_Castle's father disappeared, leaving the writer to his own thoughts and demons._


	21. Chapter 21

Richard Castle had made enough progress in recent days that not only had he been moved out of the intensive care unit, but doctors were actually discussing the possibility of letting him go home. All of his tests were coming back normal, and outside of his missing finger and the concussion he suffered a few years back, he was his regular healthy self.

Emotionally had been a different story – so much so that during one of his day-long sleeping spells, Kate had called Dr. Carvin Burke to see if he would be willing to see Castle if the writer were up for it.

Kate hadn't told him that yet, though, because she didn't want to pressure him. He was having a hard enough time, between remembering what had happened to him, dealing with the knowledge that his mother was dead, and trying to get to something resembling normal.

His story had come in bits and pieces, not because he couldn't remember, but because he was so emotionally wrecked after each piece that Kate would only allow him a little to a time. She knew how badly he wanted to get it all out, with the vain hope that maybe it would lead to something, but she hated the way he looked and acted every time he finished.

She sat at her fiancé's bedside, watching him sleep as the door opened. Kate looked up and smiled when she saw a familiar face. Standing, Kate crossed the room and extended her right arm for a handshake – a gesture the tall woman with dark wavy hair returned.

"Rachel." Kate sighed with relief. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course." Agent McCord nodded toward the bed. "How's he doing?"

"We're hoping he can go home within the next day or two." Kate couldn't tear her eyes from Castle; fortunately, Gates had been understanding the last week or so, giving her the time off so she could practically live by his bed. After three years without him, Kate wasn't about to let him out of her sight again.

The two women stood at Castle's bedside, just in time for him to stir and wake up. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, before sitting up and running the hand not hooked up to an IV across his stubbled face. The sooner they took out the IV, the better – was it possible to be _too_ hydrated?

"Hey, Beckett." His groggy voice cleared when the other presence registered.

"Castle." She smiled and took his hand into hers. "You remember Agent McCord."

He nodded and gave McCord a polite smile. "Good to see you again." The smile on his face disappeared. "Unless this means I'm dying again."

McCord chuckled and shook her head. "No, you're not dying."

"You here to offer Beckett another job?"

"No, babe." Kate squeezed Castle's hand. "I called her here as a favor."

Both women sat, and McCord pulled a legal pad out of her bag and placed it on her lap. "Kate tells me you remember everything that happened to you. Is that true?"

Castle nodded, swallowing his uncertainty and looking at his fiancée. Once he saw nod in reassurance, his shoulders relaxed and the expression on his face considerably lightened. "Yeah. I've been telling her pieces, here and there."

"Well, I'm gonna need some of those pieces too." McCord was all business, but at least the tone of her voice told Castle that she was sympathetic to his plight. "If what Kate's already told me is true, this is something the feds are gonna have to look into."

"Good luck finding him." Castle shook his head. "And even if you do, what then?"

"I'm afraid that sort of thing's above my pay grade, Mr. Castle." McCord clicked her pen, leaning forward. "When was the last time you saw your father?"

"Been about a year." He shook his head. "He's had Rankoff babysit me while he's been off doing…whatever."

"Luring us into a trap." Beckett could barely contain the anger and the hate in her voice. She caught the questioning look from McCord, sitting up a little straighter. "Little more than a month ago, Alexis found a manuscript in Castle's desk, a book called _Molten Heat_."

Castle frowned. "I haven't written any—"

"We know." Kate gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "The dedication was a message from your father, and he told us that he wrote the manuscript as a way to feed us intel about where you were."

"My father wrote a Nikki Heat book?" Castle smirked. "I'll have to ask Gina if I can sue for copyright infringement."

"Next thing we know, your father's jetting us off to Tokyo to go find you and to take down Rankoff. Only once we've been there, your father turned on us." Kate let go of the breath she'd been holding, staring at her fiancé. "He even tried to kill me."

Kate had seen the look that descended upon Castle's face only once before – when they were trying to find out who kidnapped Alexis, and he had asked for a moment to talk to the man who drove the getaway van. It scared her then, and it scared her now.

He was staring at nothing in particular. Kate squeezed his hand again, hoping the contact would ground him, bring him back to the here and now and momentarily rid him of whatever completely justified thoughts he was dealing with. For a moment, she regretted sharing that knowledge with him, but he was bound to find out anyway, so why not from her?

"Rankoff fancied himself a string puller." Castle's voice was low, detached. "Had me believing he was the one responsible for Bracken's rise to fame, told me that my abduction was retribution for all the people Beckett and I had put away over the years."

McCord squinted. "You sound skeptical."

"William Bracken was a seasoned politician, with more than 25 years of public service under his belt and connections that probably ran a lot deeper than we ever realized." Castle shook his head. "Dmitri Rankoff looked like he couldn't have been much older than his early- to mid-30s. Why would Bracken answer to a kid?"

"Maybe Rankoff's a figurehead, and the real power lies with someone else."

"Not the way he talked. Every chance he got, Rankoff was telling me how powerful he was and how insignificant I was – about how much he _wasn't_ scared of Beckett."

Kate shook her head. "Bracken was the same way. 'Oh, look at me, look how important I am. You stupid little gnat'."

"What I don't understand," Castle sighed. "Why my father?"

"Mr. Castle…I don't know what your father's told you the few times you've interacted with him, but I don't think he's been entirely truthful with you."

Kate arched a brow. "He's not CIA."

"Oh, he was." McCord sighed. "And believe me when I tell you, I will be owing favors left and right for the rest of my career for all the clearance hurdles I had to jump just to get this information." McCord sighed, setting down her pen. "Truth is, your father was CIA in much the same way as Sophia Turner."

Kate and Castle exchanged a look, then spoke in unison. "He was a mole?"

"More or less." McCord picked up her pen again. "Any idea where he might be now?"

"He was still in Tokyo when I saw him." Kate shrugged. "But I doubt he's there now. He probably bailed as soon as Alexis and I left."

"Why would he try to kill you?"

Kate shrugged. "Why would he kidnap you?" She sighed and ran her thumb over the back of her fiance's hand. "He did say…he said he made a deal with Rankoff, that Rankoff would let you live if your father killed me."

Castle frowned. "But I was in New York, being rescued."

McCord shook her head, pocketing both her pen and the notepad before standing. "There will probably be more questions in the coming days, but I don't want to overdo it. I'll let you rest some more, Mr. Castle, and catch up on time with your fiancée. I have a feeling you both need it."

"Thank you for coming, Rachel."

"Of course." To Kate's surprise, McCord reached in for a quick hug – one that was over before the detective even had a chance to react. The two women exchanged a brief smile before McCord left the room and Kate returned to her seat by Castle's side.

"You okay, Castle?"

He shook his head, grabbing Kate's hand. "My mother's dead and my father's a traitor."

"Guess it's a good thing you've got me and Alexis, then."

Castle sucked in a deep breath and squeezed Kate's hand so hard that she had to fight the urge to pull it away. She tried to hide the cringe as pain shot up her arm, but Castle eventually loosened his grip, just a little. She looked up and saw the watery look in his eyes, carefully crawling onto the bed beside him, letting her leg hook along his.

Their foreheads touched and Castle closed his eyes, a couple tears falling. She nestled in tighter against him, letting her own eyes flutter shut.

"We'll figure this out, Castle." She kissed his temple. "We'll find our way home."


	22. Chapter 22

_**Author's Note: I will be on hiatus until Dec. 27 due to a lack of internet access, but I will be back then with more updates! Until then...Happy Holidays, everyone! Keep reading and reviewing!**_

* * *

><p><em>Two weeks later…<em>

Richard Castle had been back home for a week and a half, and despite the emptiness he felt knowing Martha Rodgers was no longer livening up the place in her unique yet charming way, things were getting better. But it was a process, and there had been days where Castle felt like it was unbearable.

Alexis had spent more time at the loft, making sure she came by whenever a break in her schedule allowed. Her presence helped; it made the loft feel like a home again, instead of just a really nice place that had all of Richard Castle's stuff.

Kate had been his rock since his return, though Castle thought it unfair to ask her to do that. He'd been gone for three years. She'd had to spend all of those days, weeks, months without him. Despite his constant apologies, she kept reassuring him that it wasn't his fault. That she was still with him no matter what.

They would work through everything, Kate had said. She even broached the topic of getting married someday, which warmed Castle's heart. They didn't know when they would reach that point, but they both wanted to get there – and the fact that she still wore the engagement ring meant more than Castle could verbalize.

But there were still bumps in the road. Sleepless nights. Bursts of emotion followed by stoic silence. The knowledge that something was wrong, but Castle was unable to actually put into words what it was.

Kate had asked if he'd consider seeing Dr. Burke. He agreed – in large part because she had told him how helpful Dr. Burke was to her in the aftermath of her shooting. She'd even admitted to seeking Dr. Burke's council when it came to her feelings for Castle.

If nothing else, Castle wanted to shake the man's hand for that.

This was one of those sleepless nights. The clock read 3:52 a.m. He laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. Kate's head rested on her shoulder, her arm draped across his chest and her legs tangled with his. His rhythmic breathing matched her own, though she was deep in the throes of slumber.

He stole the occasional glance, making sure Kate was still there. She was his anchor, even when she was oblivious to the fact, and Castle gently squeezed her shoulder in appreciation. She had been so wonderful to him, but he wondered what went on in her mind sometimes. Was she ever on the verge of tears? Did she ever feel the need to burrow herself into him, fearful that he would again disappear on her?

If he disappeared again, would she wait for him again?

The detective stirred against him, and he thought she was just repositioning herself. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her hazel eyes blinking up at him, the hand on his shoulder curling so her fingers could tug against his shirt.

"Time's it?"

"Almost four." Castle's voice was rough. "Go back to sleep, Beckett."

She pushed herself tighter against him, planting a tentative kiss against his stubbled cheek. He loved how her soft lips felt against his rough skin; it was almost as if her touched grounded him in a way nothing else could. She looked up at him, sleep and concern etched onto her face.

"You can't sleep."

Castle was loathe to admit it – Kate was on-call at seven, and he didn't want her going to the precinct on such little sleep. But he could always load her up on coffee – and he knew that she could read him as well as he could read her, so hiding his problems and insecurities would do little more than make her dig even more.

Especially now.

"Another one of those nights."

"Oh, babe…" Kate's arms wrapped around Castle's shoulders, and she lifted herself enough so that her lips could trace over his. He wrapped his arms around her in kind, letting himself get lost in the sensation of their bodies pressed together. It was the most comforting feeling he could think of, and though Castle was naturally a cuddler, he appreciated that Kate was also one – especially at moments like this.

"Worried you'll have another nightmare?"

"The last three years have been a nightmare." Castle's voice cracked, and Kate squeezed him. "I almost wish I didn't remember everything."

"Castle, those memories might help us bring down those responsible." Kate kissed her fiancé again before resting her chin on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, steady and true, and she couldn't believe she was actually experiencing it again. There were nights she was sure it was nothing but a memory to her – like her mother's smile or those cookies she baked every Christmas.

"Kate…"

"I'm not going anywhere, Rick." She trailed her fingers along his jawline, and for the first time since she stirred, his eyes met hers. They were as striking as ever, even when clouded by tears, and she frowned when a few of them fell. "I spent three years looking for you. I flew halfway across the world, using vacation days I don't have, to try and find you."

Castle drew in a deep breath, and when he exhaled, the tears really started to flow. Kate sat up and cupped his face into her hands, cradling it against her chest so he could let out all of the pain he had built up. His body jerked as he cried, and Kate blinked back a few tears of her own – because she'd never really seen him this way before.

She'd seen him despondent. She'd seen him angry. She'd seen him shed a few tears. She'd seen him heartbroken, crestfallen, wistful. She'd seen him cry when he learned of Martha's death. She'd seen the betrayal when he admitted his father took him.

She'd seen him haunted, scared, looking like a lost little boy in search of his family.

But this? The breakdown that was consuming him, that was staining the shoulder of her olive green sleep shirt? The sobs that tore through his throat, clouded his eyes, and left his face stained with tears? She'd never seen this man before, and it tore her apart.

"It's okay, Rick." Her voice was a soothing whisper, her fingers roaming through his dark hair. "I'm right here. You're safe. You're not going anywhere…and neither am I."

If Kate was being honest with herself, she'd expected a night like this – a night where everything bubbled to the surface until the dam burst. He'd been remarkably adept at putting up appearances since returning home; in some ways, he was just as good as her when it came to putting up walls – though his were more temporary and humor was often his crutch.

But there had been little humor since his return. Just a lot of silence and pained glances. He knew he was hurting. She knew he was hurting. It had merely been a matter of time until he had a breakdown, and she was glad it was in the comfort of his own home and not in the hospital.

Eventually, Castle's sobs gave way to calmer, less frantic cries. The tears stung just as badly, but his body calmed against Kate's. He looked up at her, sniffling, looking every bit like the scared child she sometimes envisioned. She swiped her thumb under his eyes before leaning down to give him a gentle kiss – trying to pour all of the love she felt for him into the gesture.

He gave a sad smile when the kiss broke, sitting up and taking a deep breath. "Used to be…" His voice cracked again. "…whenever I couldn't sleep, I wrote. My last three Derrick Storm books were basically the product of constant all-nighters."

She kept stroking his hair, content to let him get out whatever he needed to get out. The tears were almost all out, but the occasional one still managed to trickle down his cheek.

"Now, I just…" He shook his head. "When I can't sleep, I just wanna stay right here. I don't wanna leave this bed, or your side. I'm afraid if I do, I'll just…"

"You won't make it back."

He nodded, silently grateful for the fact that she had said it so he didn't have to. Castle grabbed Kate's free hand, giving it as hard a squeeze as he could without hurting her, and when she squeezed back, he actually smiled to the point where it reached his eyes.

I don't know how to make up for the last three years." He shook his head again. "What I did to you…to Alexis…I can't make up for that."

"Rick." Her tone got Castle to look into her eyes. "You have _nothing_ to make up for. You understand me? _Nothing_." When he nodded, she shifted in the mattress, cupping his face in her hands. "We will find Dmitri Rankoff, and we will do to him what we've done to everyone else who's come after us. And…" She sighed. "…I don't care if that man is your father. If we cross paths again, I will end him."

Castle rested his head against Kate's shoulder, and she turned to place a soft kiss on the top of his head. They sat like that in silence for several minutes, before another tear rolled down his cheek.

"Kate?"

"Yeah, Castle?"

"That's what kept me going." He looked up at her. "These past three years. I kept thinking that one day, you were gonna find me, you were gonna make my father and Rankoff pay for what they did, and we'd start our life together over again." A wistful smile crossed his face. "Rankoff kept boasting about how he wasn't the least bit scared of you. You ask me, I think he's a moron."

"Guess he missed the part where I took a bullet to the heart."

"Or how you got tossed off a roof."

"Or when I got tortured."

"Or when you were framed for murdering the guy who tortured you."

"Or when I arrested the man who killed my mother on live TV."

They shared a laugh before Kate coaxed Castle into laying down again, turning him onto his side before wrapping a hand around his waist and pressing her chin to his shoulder. She spooned him, her eyelids feeling heavy again. Sleep threatened, and her alarm was going to go off far too soon. As much as she dreaded the early morning, she hated the thought of leaving Castle at the loft even more.

"Kate?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

Kate squeezed him and kissed his cheek. "I love you too, Rick." She rested her head against his, her eyes drooping closed for the last time that night. "Always…"


	23. Chapter 23

_Dr. Carvin Burke's office…_

Dr. Carvin Burke stood with a polite smile as two people – a man and a woman – walked into his office. He recognized the woman immediately, acknowledging her with a nod before extending his right arm to shake the man's hand.

"Richard Castle." The two men shook hands. "A pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, Doctor." Castle glanced over his shoulder at his fiancée. "You remember Detective Beckett."

"Of course." Dr. Burke's smile grew.

"Thank you for agreeing to see Castle." Kate sat on the edge of the sofa, her time-honored perch from the days when she was the one in this office looking for answers and guidance. Castle sat in the seat next to her, their hands instantly intertwining.

Dr. Burke's brows arched at the sight. He'd lost track of how many times Detective Beckett had come to his office years back, even after her psych eval had been complete, and the topic of conversation almost always found its way to the mystery writer in one way or another.

"Thank you." Castle cleared his throat. "As I understand it, I was a frequent topic of conversation."

"You were." Dr. Burke couldn't hide the smirk. "Though I suppose Detective Beckett should be reminded of doctor-patient privilege."

Kate shook her head with a toothy grin. "Emphasis on _doctor_."

"Fair point." Dr. Burke opened the portfolio sitting in his lap, producing a pen from his pocket and finding a blank page in his yellow legal pad. "But something tells me we didn't schedule this session to discuss my inadvertent matchmaking skills."

Kate placed a reassuring hand on Castle's shoulder as he heaved a sigh, his blue eyes darkening. He stared at his hands clasped together; the man who made a living with his words was suddenly having a hard time finding them.

"Babe?"

"Mr. Castle." Dr. Burke's voice was simultaneously calm and prodding. "If you're not ready, we can re-schedule."

"No." Castle sat up a little straighter, looking Dr. Burke in the eye. "Let's do this."

Dr. Burke nodded and motioned for Castle to go on.

"You probably already know that I was kidnapped three years ago." When Dr. Burke responded with just a nod, Castle took a deep breath. "I remember everything about it."

"Everything."

Again, Castle nodded. "I remember the day they took me. I remember everything they did to me." He swallowed, closing his eyes when his fiancée grabbed and squeezed his shoulder again. "I remember being away from my family for far too long."

Dr. Burke set down his pen. "How are you sleeping, Mr. Castle?"

"Not well." Castle shrugged. "A lot of sleepless nights. When I do sleep, I have dreams."

"You mean nightmares."

The previous night's breakdown returned to the forefront of Castle's mind. He prided himself in not being so blatantly emotional – even now, he wasn't sure why he took such pride in that, but it occurred to him that the breakdown had truly been the first time Kate had ever seen him at his lowest, weakest.

Part of him felt shame for that. But the knowledge that she had stayed with him, lack of sleep be damned, the fact that she wrapped her arms around him and let him cry and for once acted as his emotional rock – instead of the other way around – that helped.

She squeezed his hand, giving Castle an encouraging smile.

"How have you been readjusting, Mr. Castle?"

Castle shrugged. "Hit-or-miss, I guess. My mother died while I was missing, and it's been hard getting used to not having her around all the time." He looked over at Kate, giving her a sad smile. "But Beckett's been with me, and my daughter has tried really hard to make everything seem normal again."

"And how is your relationship?" Dr. Burke glanced down at his notepad. "As I recall, you were kidnapped on your wedding day."

Kate and Castle exchanged a look before they squeezed each other's hands. "We're good." A smile tickled t he corners of the writer's mouth. "Kate has been…extraordinary. She flew halfway across the world trying to find me, and I don't think she's left my side since I've been back."

"It's been hard." Kate admitted. "For three years, all I wanted was to see him again. To touch him again. Now that he's back, I just…I want us back."

Dr. Burke frowned. "You mean you're not?"

"No, we are." Kate lowered herself into the body of the couch, sitting next to her fiancé and resting her head on his lap. "But we both realize how long it's been and that it's going to be a process."

Dr. Burke nodded. "I see you're wearing your ring."

Kate shrugged. "Haven't taken it off since the day he disappeared."

"You mentioned remembering everything, Mr. Castle." Dr. Burke cocked his head to the side. "Does this mean whoever's responsible is being taken care of?"

Castle's features hardened, and Kate recognized the look on his face. She leaned in closer, trying to anchor him with just her touch alone, closing her eyes. He stared straight ahead, shaking his head and trying to keep his free hand from balling into a fist.

"It was my father." Whereas Castle once spoke of his father with a mix of awe and disappointment and exasperation, he now had nothing but contempt and hatred for the man. For her part, Kate couldn't blame him.

"My father used to be CIA." Castle shrugged. "That's what he said. I'd never met him until Alexis was kidnapped about five years ago. He popped into my life, popped out, and…I'll be honest, meeting him wasn't really what I'd expected."

"What do you mean?"

"There was no…connection." Castle shook his head. "He showed up again a year after that because of a case, and that's when I realized that him being my biological father really didn't mean anything. Because he was never there."

"And now?"

"I want him dead."

Castle's words were so matter-of-fact, so nonchalant, that Dr. Burke blinked. Kate registered no visible reaction, still leaning against her fiancé. "Those are strong words, Mr. Castle. Are you willing to act on them?"

Castle shook his head. "Whether my father actually was CIA or not, he's capable and connected in a way we can't reach him."

"And you, Detective Beckett?"

"I'll do whatever I have to do to protect those I love."

Dr. Burke made no reaction, jotting down something in his legal pad before regarding Castle again. "Have you been writing any?"

Castle shook his head. "I'm just trying to get back to normal."

"You're a bestselling author." Dr. Burke shrugged. "Seems to me that writing would be pretty normal for you."

"He's right, babe." Kate ran her fingers through her fiancé's hair.

"It doesn't even have to be another book, Mr. Castle. A simple journal of thoughts would suffice."

For the first time since his return, Castle smiled. It was a genuine, full expression, and he looked at his lover in a way she hadn't seen in years. She matches his smile and their foreheads rested together.

"I think someone likes that idea."

"Good." Dr. Burke stood, pocketing his pen. The two across from him also stood, hand-in-hand as the doctor and the writer again exchanged a handshake. "Mr. Castle, if you don't mind, I'd like to schedule another couple sessions. I think this outlet could be beneficial for you."

"Same time next week, then. Thank you, Dr. Burke."

As the door to Dr. Burke's office shut behind them, Kate leaned in to give Castle a kiss. He returned the gesture in kind, squeezing her hand before they walked out of the building and onto the sidewalk.

"Do you really think writing could help?"

"I do." Kate cocked her head to the side. "If nothing else, it can be therapeutic. No one even has to see it."

He smiled again, which made her smile. "Then let's go buy me a new laptop."


	24. Chapter 24

_The cemetery…_

Castle had held onto Kate's hand the entire drive from his loft to the cemetery. At times, his grip was so tight that Kate thought he was going to hurt her, and it was getting uncomfortable now that their palms were sweaty. But she never let go, knowing that he needed the connection, the tether.

She knew this was going to be difficult. Her fiancé was about to visit his mother's grave for the first time, the realization that she died while he was missing clearly weighing heavily on him. He'd had tears in his eyes since they left the loft; they hadn't fallen yet, but she knew they would.

And she'd be there when they did.

She paid the cabbie before they stepped out, hand-in-hand. The cab drove off and the two of them stood perfectly still. She could feel Castle's hand trembling against hers, and she gave it a squeeze before turning to face him, caressing his cheek with her free hand.

"Hey, babe…" She lifted onto her tip-toes to press her forehead against his. "If you're not ready…"

He responded by kissing her, two tears rolling down his cheeks. When the kiss broke, his blue eyes were still sad and watery, but he still managed a small smile.

"I don't think I'll ever be ready, Beckett." He shook his head. "But I have to do this."

The pair walked in silence, weaving through rows upon rows of tombstones. Kate already knew a lot of the names etched into them; she'd come to this cemetery so often that she was familiar with a lot of her mother's eternal neighbors. Her steps slowed when they got to Johanna's tombstone, and she lightly trailed her fingers over the top.

They'd stop again on the way back, but this was his day.

They walked past three more rows of tombstones before taking a right. Four more stones passed before they stopped, and before Kate had a chance to react, she felt the man next to her drop to his knees.

Kate slowly lowered herself to her knees, placing a hand on Castle's shoulder. He was shaking, his blue eyes burning a hole through the gray stone with the name Martha Rodgers etched into it.

"Mother…"

Castle reached out, his fingertips tracing the M. His hand shook, and Kate leaned in closer to rest her chin against his shoulder. Her head leaned against his, and she closed her eyes to keep tears of her own at bay.

"I'm sorry…" His voice cracked, his lip quivering. "I should've come back sooner…"

"Babe…"

Kate wrapped her arms around Castle's shoulders from behind, her head pressed even harder against his. He leaned into her, a hand grabbing hers as they cradled up against his chest. For the second time in the past several days, she held onto him as he broke into a sob.

Kate started to cry as well, though her tears were softer and more silent. She shed tears of guilt, sorry that she hadn't been there for Martha as much in the years her son was missing. So wrapped up in her own pain, was Kate, that she wasn't the rock the two redheads had needed. And once Martha got sick, Kate distanced herself even further, deciding she didn't want to stand by helplessly as she lost another member of this family.

"I'm so sorry, Castle."

Castle wiped at his eyes with a sniffle, his lower lip quivering before he burrowed himself deeper into his lover's embrace, squeezing his eyes shut.

"She knew." Kate kissed Castle's temple. "She never got to see the video you left for her, but I guarantee…she knew you loved her."

"Were you there?" Castle clutched as tightly to the arms wrapped around him as he could, desperate for the link. "When she…?"

Kate nodded and squeezed. "The last thing she said was 'Find him. Find my boy'."

"I can't get over how quiet the place is." He shook his head, a sad smile tickling the corners of his mouth. "Without her there. She was always so…lively and…" He sighed, sinking further into Kate. "Even when things were at their bleakest, she could always make people smile."

Kate gave Castle another squeeze. "So that's where you got it."

Castle's eyes lifted to stare at the tombstone again. His tears had dried, but there were still wet streaks on his face. He swallowed thickly, giving Kate's wrist a squeeze. "I'm home, Mother." He cleared his throat when his voice cracked again. "I made it back."

Kate felt her fiancé stiffen against her, straightening his back and sucking in a deep breath. His jaw clenched. "You probably know this by now, Mother, but…it was my father. He took me. Once again, that man found a way to complicate and ruin the lives of those around him."

Kate squeezed him again. "Castle…"

"We're gonna find him, Mother." Castle's hands curled into fists, and something dark flashed in his eyes. "And then I'm gonna make sure he never torments us again."

Castle stood before leaning down and placing a soft kiss to the top of Martha's tombstone, pressing his hand against the spot. Kate's hand linked with his again, fingers interlocking before Castle stood upright again and looked at his lover.

Her fingers caressed his cheek. "You okay?"

"No." The writer sucked in another deep, ragged breath. "But I will be. So long as you're here."

Kate squeezes his hand and leaned in to give him a kiss, a tear rolling down her cheek. He brushed the tear aside once they broke the kiss, before wrapping his arm around her shoulder and squeezing when she leaned against him.

"You really mean it?" Kate looked up at Castle. "About killing him?"

"If I get the opportunity."

"Castle." She crossed to the front of him, taking both of his hands into hers. "Listen to me, okay? I know you're angry and you're hurt and the most logical thing to do right now is lash out against your father, but…" She sighed, looking down at their hands before meeting his eyes again. "Rick, taking a life? Being the one responsible for the fact that someone can no longer breathe?" Kate shook her head. "You don't know what that's like. The weight of it. The way it…sits in your gut."

"When I shot Tyson—"

"You knew he wasn't dead." Kate closed what little distance there was between them, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against the crook of his neck. "Remember when I shot Coonan? How I just…broke down after?"

Castle nodded.

"It wasn't _just_ because I had to kill him before we could figure out who paid him to kill my mom." Her arms tightened around Castle. "And it wasn't _just_ because I thought I was about to lose you. It…Castle, I spend my life fighting on behalf of those who are gone. I track down those who snuff out the lives of others and make sure they can't do it again."

"But when you're the one who snuffs it out…"

Kate nodded. "As many nightmares as I've had about my shooting, about the day you were taken…I have twice as many about all the times I've had to kill someone. I don't care who it is, Castle, taking a life is…this isn't a Derrick Storm novel, okay?"

"Kate…"

"No, Rick." She shook her head, stroking his left temple. "I love you too much to let you lose yourself like that. We will find your father, and we will find Rankoff, and we will make sure they pay for what they did to you. But you're not killing anyone. I won't let you do that to yourself."

Castle squeezed Kate in return, pressing his head against hers. He sighed and closed his eyes. She was right. Of course she was right. He was angry and hurt and frayed and desperate for just a slice of normal. His father took away three years of his life. He took away Castle's wedding. He made it so Castle wasn't around when Martha was sick. Alexis graduated from Columbia, and thanks to his father, Castle missed that too.

Emotionally, he wanted to just…do all of these unspeakable things to his father, to make him pay for what he did. But Kate was right. That wasn't his life. Castle killed people on paper, with words. He could never actually go through with it.

"Have I told you lately that you're extraordinary?"

Kate smiled against his chest. "Once or twice."

His smile matched hers, and Castle kissed her forehead. "Well, you are." He then kissed her lips. "I love you, Kate."

"I love you too, Rick."

Reluctantly breaking out of the embrace, Castle took Kate's hand into his own, cocking his head to the side. "Come on, let's go tell your mother the good news."


	25. Chapter 25

_The splash of cold water was what ultimately brought Derrick Storm out of his stupor._

_He coughed, sputtered, squeezing his eyes shut. The body-wracking shiver was almost enough to send him under again, but Storm kept his wits about him, his wrists automatically tugging at their restraints._

_They were tight, almost to the point of cutting off his circulation. Storm blinked the dreariness out of his eyes, only to be greeted with the same pitch black that had called him company when he was unconscious. In fact, it was so dark, so quiet, that Storm wondered if he was in fact still under._

_The pounding in his head told him otherwise._

"_Hello?"_

_A gunshot rang out, and Storm ducked as best he could. He heard the stray bullet careening off the metal walls, each _pang_ echoing against the darkness. The bullet eventually came to rest, having missed its intended mark. Footsteps approached, and Storm smiled to himself, glad his captors had neglected to bind his ankles together._

_Storm pivoted before throwing his body weight behind a back kick, his right foot colliding solidly with someone's knee cap. Another errant gunshot drowned out the pained grunt, and Storm kept his head low, hoping the hunk of metal would once again miss him. Having been shot before, Storm didn't care to experience that again._

_An elbow slammed into Storm's back, and he fell face-first onto the cold concrete. He felt the warm rush of blood pouring from his nose, gritting his teeth and bracing himself for the next blow. But a heavy metal door squeaked open, and yet another gunshot echoed in the darkness. From behind, Storm heard a body slump to the ground._

_Storm closed his eyes, bracing himself for a blow, a gunshot, anything. He heard the faint sound of another body hitting the floor beside him, before a mystery figure grabbed his wrists and started fiddling with his bindings. With some effort, and the deft use of a blade, Storm's wrists broke free._

_The figure helped Storm to his feet, a female voice in his ear saying, "C'mon, let's get you out of here."_

_Storm didn't recognize the voice, but once they crossed through the heavy metal door – and he had to shield his eyes from the absurd light – Storm decided that didn't matter. He didn't know where he was, or what day it was, but Storm knew who he was and that he was still alive._

_The woman led Storm to a remote bridge on what he guessed were the outskirts of some part of New York City. His eyesight had finally adjusted by that point, and he leaned against the concrete wall to gather his bearings. A tall woman with auburn hair stood roughly twenty feet from him, talking on her phone._

_Storm straightened his posture when the woman hung up and approached him. She walked with a purpose, stony gaze in her eyes and a gold badge on her hip. Storm cocked his head to the side, unable to hide a smirk._

"_You a fed?" he asked._

_The woman shook her head. "NYPD." She glanced over her shoulder. "Homicide, to be exact. Detective Nikki Heat."_

"_Homicide?" Storm asked, squinting. "Hate to break it to you, but I'm still alive."_

"_You are, but Clara Strike isn't," Detective Heat said, and though her tone was even, Storm could see in her eyes how much she didn't enjoy sharing that news. The news sat awkwardly in Storm's gut, and he leaned against the concrete again. "Mr. Storm, are you familiar with a Jameson Rook?"_

_Storm frowned. "The journalist?" He asked._

_Detective Heat nodded, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her brown leather overcoat. She approached Storm again, looking over her shoulder before leaning in. "He's been missing for three days," she whispered._

_Storm shook his head. "And you think that's related to Clara's death?"_

"_I _know_ it is."_

* * *

><p>The sound of Kate Beckett stirring in his bed broke Richard Castle from his rhythm, and he glanced up from the screen of his new laptop for the first time in roughly four hours. He'd written almost non-stop since dinner with his fiancée and daughter, and Kate – like always – had been content to let him work in peace.<p>

She always left him alone when he worked – which was in stark contrast to how he first wormed his way into her life. The irony would never be lost on Castle.

By the time Kate padded her way into Castle's office, wiping the sleep from her eyes, he stood and stretched his arms as high above his head as he could – to the point where his joints started popping and he cringed.

"You still up, babe?" Kate slipped her arms around Castle's waist, resting her head against his chest. "It's late."

"I know." Castle placed a soft kiss to the top of Kate's head. "I just finished a chapter."

She smiled at that, and Castle discovered yet again just how adorable sleepy Beckett's smile was. He let her lead him back to the bedroom, content to leave his writing for the morning – he wouldn't be able to follow Kate to the precinct in the morning because of a meeting with Gina and Paula at Black Pawn.

To say he was dreading the experience would've been an understatement.

"I'm so glad you're writing again." Kate rested her head on Castle's chest once they were in bed and all settled in under the sheets, his hand automatically resting on her shoulder. "So…can I get a spoiler? What's Nikki Heat up to now?"

He smiled at his lover's curiosity, giving her shoulder a squeeze. He was loathe to give her too many details about the storyline, considering how similar it was to what had happened to him, but he figured it was probably better she hear it from him instead of when she read the finished product for the first time.

"Investigating a murder-slash-missing persons case." There, that was generic enough.

But Kate once again flashed her detective skills; even when she was on the verge of sleep, he couldn't get anything past her. "Rook's missing, isn't he?"

Castle nodded and sighed.

"He's…not the murder victim, is he?"

"No." Castle shook his head and placed a soft kiss to the top of Kate's head. He could never do that to Rook – or Nikki, for that matter. If these books were supposed to be his love letters to Kate, no way could Castle every kill either of them. "That would be Clara Strike."

Kate lifted her head with a confused frown, cocking her head to the side until her hair spilled out across Castle's chest. "Okay, now I _know_ I'm sleepy."

"No, you heard right."

"So…is this a Heat book or a Storm book?"

"Yes." He gave Kate a cheeky grin. "I couldn't decide which way I wanted to go – I knew I wanted to write _something_, just didn't know what. So I decided to write them both."

"A crossover." Another sleepy smile crossed Kate's face. "I like it. Can't wait to read it."

"So you're okay with the storyline?"

"I didn't have a problem with the way _Heat Rises_ ended, did I?" Kate lifted her chin to look into Castle's blue eyes, her hand pressed against his chest so she could feel the dull thud of his heartbeat. "I mean, yeah, it was tough to read, but…I know you've always put bits and pieces of us into these books, Castle. It makes sense that this one would deal with your disappearance in some way."

She smiled when her fiancé placed another kiss on the top of her head.

"I mean…" Kate sighed. "I've never told you _what_ to write, have I?"

"No." A sideways grin crossed Castle's face. "You only ever objected to cover art or book titles or character names."

They shared a laugh before Kate nuzzled in closer to Castle, silently thankful yet again that he was by her side once more. His warmth once again spread over this bed, infused every facet of her life, something Kate didn't believe she'd experience again just a few short months ago.

But once again, they had defied the odds. It was something of a habit with them.

Just as Kate's eyes were about to close to send her back to sleep, Castle's hand squeezed her shoulder. She looked up at him through heavy eyelids, confusion etched into her forehead, before he leaned in and planted a soft kiss to her mouth.

She returned the kiss as best she could while on the precipice of sleep, and Kate went back to sleep with a smile, her head resting on his shoulder and a declaration of his love still rattling around in her ears.

With any luck, Nikki Heat would get her happy ending, too.


	26. Chapter 26

_**For Johanna Beckett on this, the anniversary of her murder.**_

* * *

><p><em>A year and a half ago…<em>

_Breaking news tonight out of Washington Heights, where civil rights attorney Johanna Beckett was found murdered in an alley. Police are not currently releasing any details other than that. Mrs. Beckett is survived by her husband Jim and 19-year-old daughter Katherine._

_More on this story as it develops._

Richard Castle snapped out of what he was sure was a hallucination. Then again, Rankoff and Hunt loved toying with him like this. Dragging out a television and replaying old newscasts and other tidbits that felt like a bad ripoff of _This Is Your Life_ – all in an attempt to get inside the writer's head.

Most of the time, it failed. But then they played the Beckett card…

Logically, Castle knew he had seen that particular newscast that fateful night. But it was so inconspicuous at the time – yes, it had been tragic, but at the time, it really wasn't much different to him than any other murder.

Little did Castle realize how integral a role that seemingly random breaking news bulletin would play in his life over a decade later.

A series of seemingly unrelated events, lining up perfectly like a carefully arranged set of dominoes – when one was pushed, it took out all of the others until what looked random and unrelated at first eventually became the result of perfect synergy.

Castle had no way of knowing, all those years ago, that the 19-year-old who had just lost her mother – for the entire city to discover – would ultimately become the inspiration for his second most prolific book character, not to mention the love of his life, the person with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his days.

He thought bringing down the man responsible for Johanna's death would bring them peace, normalcy. Instead, it brought her even more heartache and, at the very least, he was looking at months, if not years, of therapy.

_A five-year-old cold case has been officially shelved by the NYPD. With the retirement of Detective John Raglan, the cold case surrounding Johanna Beckett's murder is now abandoned. Preliminary findings suggested the New York native, a civil rights attorney, had been the victim of gang violence._

_And now, that is how the case will remain. Attempts to reach out to the Beckett family have been unsuccessful._

A pang of guilt overwhelmed Castle. But why? He didn't know Kate when that story broke. Hell, back then, he was still getting used to the idea of raising Alexis by himself. He was just starting the process of kick-starting his career with the unveiling of super badass CIA spy Derrick Storm.

Again, Johanna's murder had proved tragic, but he didn't give it a second thought.

"Tell me, Ricky…" Castle hated the way that sounded coming from Rankoff's mouth. "How is it that you knew about this story when it happened – as a native New Yorker, how could you not – and yet, the day you met Detective Beckett, it never registered?"

_Seriously?_

Castle had experienced a myriad of feelings and emotions when he first crossed paths with Detective Kate Beckett. Intrigue. Lust. Attraction. Awe. The inexplicable need to have her in his life, even when she made it clear she wanted no part of that – completely unaware of the fact that she was five years away from accepting his engagement ring.

Though to be fair, even he hadn't foreseen that at the time.

"I hope there's a point to all this." Castle shook his head. "Cause as Memory Lane tour guides go, you kind of suck."

_Castle, you touch my mom's case, and you and I are done. Do you understand?_

Okay, that was different. This wasn't some old newscast. It was a memory. Plucked straight from Castle's own head. How Rankoff had managed this, the writer couldn't tell; there was nothing sticking out of his head, no weird contraptions to suck out the memories.

And yet, here he was, reliving one of his least-proudest moments of his life with Kate Beckett.

_Why don't you want to investigate it?_

_Same reason a recovering alcoholic doesn't drink. You don't think I've been down there? You don't think I haven't memorized every line in that file? My first three years on the force, every off-duty moment was spent looking for something someone missed. It took me a year of therapy to realize if I didn't let it go, it was gonna destroy me. And so I let it go._

_Sorry. I didn't know._

_Yeah, well, now you do._

"Enough!" Castle's voice echoed against his drab surroundings, and Rankoff laughed.

"Why stop now? I'm having way too much fun."

_You have to stop. This investigation, you – you have to stop._

Castle squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. No…no no no no. _No!_ Not this! Not now!

_Castle, we already talked about this. I'm fine. I'm in control._

_No, you're not. _They_ are. And if you don't stop, they will kill you, Kate._

"Stop this!"

Castle squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that he gave himself a headache, his teeth gnashing together, his hands balled into tight fists, his wrists bound together behind his back. Fingernails dug into his palms, cutting skin. A small red mark on the side of his neck burned.

_Are you a part of this…?_

_I was just trying to keep you safe._

_By lying to me about the most important thing in my life?_

_That lie was the only thing that was protecting you._

_Castle, I didn't need protection. I needed a _lead_, and you sat on it for a year._

"What's the point of all this, Rankoff?!"

"To make you pay, Mr. Castle."

_And how the hell could you do this?!_

…_Because I love you!_

Castle grit his teeth and doubled over himself, tears spilling from his eyes.

_But you already know that, don't you? You've known for about a year._

He shook his head, falling from the chair he had been sitting it, landing on his knees. Whatever physical traumas Rankoff and his father had subjected him to over the past year and a half paled in comparison to this. The…blatant invasion of his inner psyche, playing his own memories back to him for the express purpose of breaking him.

The worst part was, it was working.

_How am I even supposed to trust anything that you say?_

_How are you…because of everything we've been through together! Four years I've been right here. Four years, just _waiting_ for you to open your eyes and see that I'm _right here_…and that I'm more than a partner._

Tears streaming down his face, Castle mouthed the next words from perfect memory.

_Every morning, I bring you a cup of coffee just so I could see a smile on your face, because I think you are the most…_remarkable…maddening…challenging…frustrating _person that I have ever met._

"I will _kill you!_"

Rankoff laughed. "No, you won't. You don't have it in you. You're not the badass here, remember?" The laugh returned, and it was even more unnerving than it had been the first time around. "Please, Ricky…if your little cop girlfriend doesn't impress me, then why would you?"

Something clanged against the cold ground, and Castle opened his tear-stained eyes enough to see remnants of ceramic elephants strewn about in front of him. The writer's blood went cold, and he swallowed back the bile rising in his throat.

"You didn't arrest Bracken because you were good or smart or tenacious." Rankoff tossed a ceramic shard at Castle. The piece hit Castle in the forehead, leaving a small red mark that eventually started to bleed. "You lucked out. I mean, honestly, Ricky…those damn elephants were on her desk for _how long_?"

Castle snarled. "Sometimes it's better to be lucky than good."

Rankoff _hmm_'d. "Didn't think you a NASCAR fan, Mr. Castle. Richard Petty said that. Well done."

The lights flickered on again, and Rankoff's footsteps grew quieter. Castle could tell the man was walking away; the writer was desperate to say something, make sure Rankoff wouldn't get the last word this time, but every time Castle opened his mouth, nothing came out.

"I'm not gonna kill you, Ricky. Nah, breaking you beyond repair will be so much more fun. Especially when I get to see that cop of yours realize she won't be able to put back the pieces."

The sound of a metal door slamming startled Castle. He struggled against his bindings, his eyes red and puffy, wet streaks running lines down his cheeks. He shook out of rage more than anything, his blue eyes staring at the door – _daring_ it to open again.

But it didn't.

Castle closed his eyes and shook his head, his mind again wandering to his beloved Kate. He squeezed his eyes shut, determined not to shed any more tears as a result of Rankoff's manipulations. Minutes passed, but they felt like hours, and eventually the burning sensation in the side of Castle's neck faded, his thinking less cloudy than before.

Once the fog lifted, Castle bolted upright again.

"Vincit Omnia Veritas." Despite it all, a smile tickled his features. "Truth conquers all."


End file.
